> 

..x 


f 0 r   tin    S  0  n  a  L 


far  tjt   Social: 


13])   Hie    .(lutljav   of 


for  the 


' 


N  K  \V     YORK: 

>K  WITT  cV   DAVKNI'nliT.    HHi  A:    H'.-J   N'ASSAF  STIIKKT 


<|or 
jose  Intellectual  Castes  prefer  fl&fyolegome  |piei  to 

ITiierarg    Confectiotttrg, 


ban  €sgetiallg 


"  ^n  Epicure." 


"A  DINSKB  of  fragments  is  often  said  to  be  the  best  dinner; 
so  there  are  few  minds  but  might  furuish  some  instruction  and 
entertainment  of  their  scraps,  their  odds  and  ends  of  thought*. 
They  who  cannot  weave  »  uniform  web,  may  at  least  produce  a 
piece  of  patchwork."  , 

GCISSU   AT  TBtJTir. 


"  To  the  man  of  robust  and  healthy  intellect,  who  gathers  the 
harvest  of  literature  into  his  bam,  thrashes  the  straw,  winnows 
the  grain,  grinds  it  in  his  own  mill,  bakes  it  in  his  own  oven,  and 
then  eats  the  true  bread  of  knowledge,  we  bid  a  cordial  wel 
come." 

SOCTHBY'S  DOCTOR. 


"I  WOULD  go  fifty  miles  on  foot,  to  kiss  the  hand  of  that  man  whose  generous  heart 
will  give  up  the  reins  of  his  imagination  into  his  author's  hands — be  pleased,  he  knows 
not  why,  and  cares  not  wherefore."  STERNE. 

SOUTHEY  remarks  that  there  are  some  persons  who  are  willing  to  be 
pleased,  and  thankful  for  being  pleased,  without  thinking  it  necessary  that 
they  should  be  able  to  parse  their  pleasure,  like  a  lesson,  or  give  a  rule 
or  reason  why  they  are  pleased.  It  is  the  aim  and  design  of  the  following 
pages  to  put  the  reader  in  this  precise  condition ;  believing,  with  Sydney 
Smith,  "  that  all  mankind  are  happier  for  having  been  happy  ;  so  that  if 
you  make  them  happy  now,  you  make  them  h*ppy  twenty  years  hence 
by  the  memory  of  it."  Old  books  by  great  authors  are  not  in  every 
body's  reach ;  and  though  it  is  better  to  know  them  thoroughly  than  to 
know  them  here  and  there,  yet  it  is  a  good  work  to  give  a  little  to  those 
who  have  neither  time  nor  means  to  get  more.  When  in  any  fragrant, 
scarce  old  tome  the  bookworm  discovers  a  sentence  or  an  illustration 
that  does  his  own  heart  good,  he  should  hasten  to  give  it  currency.  Most 
readers — readers  con  amore,  have  some  snug  little  corner  in  the  store 
house  of  memory,  in  which  they  treasure  up  choice  passages  of  their 
favorite  authors.  It  requires  more  than  a  mental  process  to  reduce  such 
a  heterogenous  collection  to  something  like  order.  The  present  volume, 
with  its  antecedent,  originated  in  some  such  an  attempt.  These  desul- 


X  INTRODUCTORY. 

tory  chapters  are  the  fruitage  of  many  pleasant,  recreative  hours  spent 
in  the  highways  and  by-ways  of  literature.  Whenever  a  tempting  thought- 
blossom  decoyed  us  by  its  alluring  beauty,  the  prize  was  captured  to 
enrich  and  grace  our  collection.  Such  gleanings  may  by  some  be  deemed 
trifles,  but 

"Though  high  philosophy  despise  such  things, 
They  often  give  to  weightier  truths  their  wing*  ; 
Convey  a  moral,  or  correct  bad  taste, 
Though  aptly  called  light  learning,  still  not  waste. 
A  spark  of  nature's  fire  will  not  despise, 
A  word  sometimes  makes  brighter,  lovelier  eyes ; 
A  flash  of  wit  disarms  old  care  of  wrath, 
A  happy  line  throws  beauty  in  our  path ; 
Though  sages  say  light  learning  wisdom  stifles, 
There  it  delight  in  stringing  useful  trifles." 

If  trifles  are  facts,  they  cease  to  be  trivial ;  and  in  these  stirring 
times,  when  our  allotted  leisure  is  becoming  infinitessimally  small,  the 
terse  and  epigrammatic  are  to  be  preferred  to  the  discursive  and  the 
diffuse,  in  our  reading.  Somewhat  after  the  manner  of  old  Burton, 
these  chapters  are  fertile  of  quotations — being  compounded  mainly  of  the 
thoughts  of  others — a  species  of  literary  amalgam.  This  will  scarcely 
be  considered  an  objection,  since  it  gives  the  essence  of  many  minds 
instead  of  one.  A  quaint  writer  asserts  that  "  every  book  is  itself  a  quo 
tation."  As  with  the  jeweller,  if  in  some  instances  the  setting  may  be 
rudely  done,  yet  the  gem  still  retains  its  original  value  ;  and  we  are  free 
to  confess,  as  did  Goldsmith  of  his  "  Vicar"  (and  with  vastly  more  reason), 
that  "  there  are  a  hundred  faults  in  this  thing  ;  yet  a  book  may  be  amus 
ing  with  numerous  errors,  or  it  may  be  dull  without  a  single  absurdity." 
It  would  be  great  temerity  to  appropriate  to  our  humble  essay  the  witty 
analysis  of  the  witty  author  already  cited,  and  affirm — that  "it  has  pro- 


INTRODUCTORY.  XI 

fundity  without  obscurity,  perspicuity  without  prolixity,  ornament  without 
glare,  terseness  without  barrenness,  penetration  without  subtlety,  com 
prehensiveness  without  digression,  and  a  great  number  of  other  things 
without  a  great  number  of  other  things." 

The  present  work  might  not  inaptly  be  styled  an  odd  volume,  were  it 
not  intended  to  be  even  with  its  predecessor,  of  which,  indeed,  it  forms 
the  counterpart.  It  is  odd  in  its  plan  and  arrangement,  consists  of  odd 
sayings  and  selections,  from  many  odd  and  out-of-the-way  authors.  It  is, 
moreover,  fitted  for  odd  readers,  and  odd  half-hours,  and,  oddly  enough, 
is  the  handiwork  of  a  very  odd  specimen  of  an  author.  Oddities  are  not, 
however,  without  their  use  ;  they  sometimes  dispel  ennui,  the  headache, 
and  even  the  heartache. 

Our  design  has  been  to  minister  to  intellectual  entertainment  with 
instruction,  mingling 

Sayings  fetched  from  sages  old, 
Laws  which  Holy  Writ  unfold, 
Worthy  to  be  graved  in  gold ; 
Lighter  fancies  not  excluding, 
Blameless  wit,  with  nothing  rude  In, 
Sometimes  mildly  interluding. 

For  we  hold,  with  Rabelais,  that  the  funds  of  wit  and  merriment  are 
not  yet  exhausted — that  the  wings  of  fancy  are  not  yet  clipped,  and  that 
our  ancestors  have  not  said  and  sung  all  our  good  things. 

"  What  more  refreshing  than  a  Salad,  when  your  appetite  seems  to 
have  deserted  you,  or  even  after  a  generous  dinner — the  nice,  fresh, 
crisp  salad — full  of  life  and  health,  seems  to  invigorate  the  palate  and 
dispose  the  masticatory  powers  to  a  much  longer  duration."* 

*3oyer. 


Xii  INTRODUCTORY. 

"Salads,"  according  to  a  modern  French  authority,*  "  refresh  without 
exciting,  and  make  people  younger."  The  Salad  we  offer  ought  to  have 
this  effect ;  and  we  hope  everybody  will  bring  to  it — what  everybody 
wishes  for,  and  as  soon  as  possessed,  loses — a  good  appetite.  Salads 
are  not  generally  suited  for  weak  digestions,  or  sickly  folk ;  yet  we 
have  it  certified  on  professional  authority  that  this  salad  is  adapted 
for  the  especial  cure  and  comfort  of  any  who  may  have  such  malady  as 
that  complained  of  by  the  author  of  Elia,  who  thus  piteously  portrays 
his  sufferings  to  Bernard  Barton:  "Do  you  know  what  it  is  to  succumb 
under  an  insurmountable  day-mare — an  indisposition  to  do  anything,  or 
to  be  anything — a  total  deadness  and  distaste — a  suspension  of  vitality — 
an  indifference  to  locality,  a  numb,  soporific  good-for-nothingness — an 
ossification  all  over,  an  oyster-like  indifference  to  passing  events — a  mind 
stupor — a  brawny  defiance  to  the  needles  of  a  thrashing-5n  conscience — 
with  a  total  irresolution  to  submit  to  water-gruel  processes?" 

After  sundry  erasures,  blottings,  corrections,  insertions,  enlargings  and 
diminishing?,  with  interlineations,  we  have  at  length  completed  the  work, 
which,  whatever  may  be  alleged  against  it,  shall  be  innocent  of  all  heresy 
of  necromancy,  geomancy,  alchymy,  exorcism,  phantasmagoria,  witch 
craft,  metoposcopy,  sorcery,  or  thaumaturgie. 

As  this  is  a  Salad  for  the  Social,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  it  will  prove 
savory  to  the  palate  of  a  goodly  number  of  good-natured  guests ; 
since  even  frugal  fare  is  rendered  relishable  by  the  presence  of  smiling 
faces  and  happy  hearts,  while  the  most  costly  viands  often  lose  their 
zest  where  these  are  not.  Foremost  among  the  pleasures  of  the  table 
are,  what  an  elegant  novelist  has  termed  "  those  felicitous  moods  in 
which  our  animal  spirits  search,  and  carry  up,  as  it  were,  to  the  surface, 
our  intellectual  gifts  and  acquisitions."  The  invitation  to  this  repast  is. 

*  Brlllat  Sftvarin. 


INTBODTJOTOBY.  Xlll 

therefore,  respectfully  tendered  all  genial  spirits  who  will  bear  com 
pany  with  the  humble  host ;  and  being  unknown  to  the  great  world,  "  I 
will  tell  you,  sirs,  by  way  of  private,  and  under  seal,  I  am  a  gentleman, 
and  live  here  obscure,  and  to  myself."* 

F.  S. 

*  Ben  Jonson. 


INTRODUCTORY,         ix 

BOOKCRAFT, 17 

THE  MODERN  MOLOCH, .        .        .62 

THE  TOILET  AND  ITS  DEVOTEES, 96 

THE  MYSTERIES  OF  MEDICINE, 140 

THE  CYCLE  OF  THE  SEASONS, 189 

THE  HUMORS  OF  LAW, 243 

THE  MUTE  CREATION, 273 

PULPIT  PECULIARITIES, 819 

THE  LARCENIES  OF  LITERATURE, 867 

A  STRAY  LEAF, 899 


BOOK-CRAFT. 


"Mightiest  of  the  mighty  means, 

On  which  the  arm  of  Pi-ogress  leans — 
Man's  noblest  mission  to  advance, 
His  woes  assuage,  his  weal  enhance, 
His  rights  enforce,  his  wrongs  redress — 
Mightiest  of  the  mighty  is  the  Press .'"— BOWRINO. 

11  Books  are  spectacles  with  which  to  read  nature.    They  teach  us  to  understand  and 
feel  what  we  see,  to  decipher  and  syllable  the  hieroglyphics  of  the  senses." — DRTDEN. 

BOOKS  are  an  essential  element  of  our  social  economy.  The 
best  minds  of  every  age  are  trained  by 

"  Those  dead  but  sceptred  sovereigns,  who  still  rule 
Our  spirits  from  their  urns." 

From  books  they  receive  most  of  their  culture  ;  and  by 
them  are  disciplined  in  youth,  stimulated  in  manhood,  and 
solaced  in  age.  "When  I  am  reading  a  book,"  said  Swift, 
"  whether  wise  or  silly,  it  seems  to  me  to  be  alive  or  talking  to 


18  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


me."  Such  is  the  feeling  of  every  student  who  appreciates  the 
author  he  reads. 

"  There  are  those  who  desire  a  book  as  a  living  companion 
of  the  mind  ;  and  to  such,  a  good  work  is  society  to  his  lone 
liness — a  balm  to  his  troubles — a  friend  to  the  friendless — 
wealth  to  the  poor,  and,  moreover,  can  keep  the  mind  in 
action,  though  the  body  dies.  It  was  Plato  who  went  to  play 
when  he  was  elected  to  the  consulship,  but  the  evening  before 
he  died,  he  read.  Mind  lives  by  mind  as  it  has  been  developed 
and  preserved  ;  and  man,  by  this  medium,  has  shown  himself 
in  action  like  an  angel,  in  word&  like  a  god.  Take  this  from 
him  and  he  is  nothing."* 

"  In  books  we  have  friends  for  every  mood — comforters  for 
every  sorrow ;  a  glorious  company  of  immortals,  scattering 
their  sweet  influences  on  the  worn  and  beaten  paths  of  our 
daily  life.  Shapes  '  that  haunt  thought's  wilderness '  are 
around  us,  in  toil,  and  suffering,  and  joy  :  mitigating  labor, 
soothing  care,  giving  a  keener  relish  to  delight  ;  touching  the 
heroic  string  in  our  nature  with  a  noble  sentiment ;  kindling 
our  hearts,  lifting  our  imaginations,  and  hovering  alike  over 
the  couch  of  health  and  the  sick  pillow,  to  bless  and  cheer, 
and  animate  and  console." 

Book-making,  once  a  science,  acquired  by  long  laborious  toil, 
has,  by  the  appliances  of  modern  machinery,  become  a  mercan 
tile  pursuit  of  almost  unlimited  extent.  In  olden  times,  the 
stylus  and  parchment  were  the  mechanical  essentials  of  a  book, 
and  years  were  often  devoted  to  its  production  ;  now,  by  the 
magic  of  metal  type  and  the  steam-press,  volumes  are  multi 
plied  almost  by  the  hour.  Formerly,  a  book,  both  as  to  its 
mind  and  mechanism,  was  the  sole  work  of  the  monk  or 
scribe ;  now,  there  is  a  division  of  labor — the  author  writes  it, 
the  steam-press  prints  it,  and  the  publisher  is  its  purveyor  to 
the  public. 

*  Henry  Giles. 


BOOK-CRAFT.  19 


By  this  expedient,  the  universal  diffusion  of  knowledge  has 
been  promoted,  and  each  department  of  the  labor  been  ren 
dered  more  perfect.  But  for  this,  the  light  of  learning  would 
not  have  been  reflected  from  the  luminous  page,  while  the 
Cimmerean  gloom  of  the  "dark  ages"  would  have  still  cast 
deep  shadows  over  the  nations. 

"  The  PEN  and  the  PRESS,  bless'd  alliance  !  combined 
To  soften  the  heart  and  enlighten  the  mind  ; 
For  that  to  the  treasures  of  knowledge  gave  birth, 
And  this  sent  them  forth  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  ; 
Their  battles  for  truth  were  triumphant,  indeed, 
And  the  rod  of  the  tyrant  was  snapped  like  a  reed. 
They  were  made  to  exalt  us,  to  teach  us,  to  bless, 
Those  invincible  brothers — the  PEN  and  the  PRESS."* 

A  book  has  been  curiously  defined,  "  brain  preserved  in 
ink,"  and  when  there  is  plenty  of  the  fruit,  it  is  a  conserve  to 
tempt  the  most  capricious  palate.  In  ancient  times,  books 
were  written  on  the  bark  of  trees ;  hence  the  Latin  word  liber, 
from  which  we  derive  our  English  term  "library."  "Book" 
is  from  the  Saxon,  "  Joe,"  a  beech-tree. 

A  tablet  made  from  the  main  body  of  a  tree  was  called  codex 
or  caudex.  Scipio  Maffei  distinguishes  square  and  round  books 
by  the  terms  codex  and  liber,  respectively.  It  is  doubtful  whether 
barks  or  stones  were  first  written  on  ;  although  the  Decalogue, 
the  first  writing  of  which  we  have  any  authentic  account,  was 
on  the  latter.  The  leaves  of  plants  were  long  used  for  writing 
on — chiefly  those  of  the  palm,  papyrus,f  tiles,  &c.  Leather, 
and  goat-skins  were  used  by  the  Egyptians.  Plates  of 


*  J.  C.  Prince. 

t  The  invention  of  parchment  is  ascribed  to  Eumenes,  who  reigned  more  than 
two  thousand  years  ago.  He  was  the  founder  of  an  extensive  library,  into  which  the 
new  manufacture  was  largely  introduced.  Parchment  volumes  were  commonly  rolled 
on  a  round  stick,  with  a  ball  at  each  end,  and  the  composition  began  at  the  centre. 
These  were  called  volumes,  and  the  outsides  were  inscribed  just  as  we  now  letter  books. 


20  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


copper  and  lead  were  also  used  in  the  East.  Accord 
ing  to  Josephns,  the  children  of  Seth  wrote  their  inventions  in 
Astronomy,  &c.,  on  stone  pillars.  Hesiod's  works  were  first 
written  on  tables  of  lead — Solon's  laws  on  wooden  planks. 
The  wood  was  sometimes  covered  with  wax,  so  that  the  writing 
could  be  easily  effaced.  Pliny  thinks  that  writing  on  lead 
succeeded  that  on  barks. 

The  term  "volume"  is  from  voho,  to  roll,  the  earlier  manu 
scripts  being  in  the  form  of  a  scroll  or  roll. 

The  Chinese  manufacture  paper  of  linen,  the  fibres  of  the 
young  bamboo — of  the  mulberry  ;  the  envelope  of  the  silk 
worm — of  a  native  tree  called  chu  or  ko-chu — but  especially  of 
cottou.  They  were  in  possession  of  the  art  long  before  it  was 
known  in  Europe ;  and,  as  Mecca  was  a  sort  of  depot  for  the 
fabrics  of  China,  it  is  by  some  very  reasonably  supposed,  that 
the  paper  was  brought  from  that  country.  Whatever  might 
have  been  its  origin,  the  art  was  undoubtedly  employed  and 
improved  by  the  Arabs,  who,  in  their  career  of  conquest,  car 
ried  it  into  Spain,  about  the  beginning  of  the  tenth  century. 
Other  accounts  ascribe  the  invention  of  cotton  paper  to 
Greece ;  indeed,  not  only  its  origin,  but  the  various  improve 
ments  in  its  manufacture,  and  the  different  substitutions  of  new 
materials  have  long  been  the  subject  of  controversy. 

Cotton  paper  was  called  charta  bombydna :  it  was  very  white 
and  strong,  but  not  equal  to  that  in  which  linen  is  a  consti 
tuent.  . 

With  regard  to  linen  paper,  authorities  differ  widely.  By 
some  accounts,  its  manufacture  was  not  introduced  into  Europe 
until  the  latter  part  of  the  fourteenth  century,  a. mill  having 

The  Greek  MSS.,  !n  Herculaneum,  consist  of  papyrus,  rolled,  charred,  and  m.itfed 
together  by  the  fire,  and  are  about  nine  inches  long,  and  one,  two,  or  three  inches  in 
diameter,  each  being  a  volume  or  separate  treatise. 

Cotton  and  silk  paper  were  in  use  at  an  early  period,  but  linen  rags  were  not  used 
till  A.  D.  1200.  This  Invention  has  been  placed  earlier  by  some  good  authorities,  but  it 
would  appear  that  they  have  confounded  the  cotton  with  the  linen  paper.  The  first 
paper-mill  was  erected  in  England,  towardi  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century. 


BOOK-CRAFT.  21 


been,  in  1390,  established  at  Nuremberg.  In  1366,  however, 
the  Republic  of  Venice  granted  a  patent  to  the  town  of 
Treviso,  for  the  exclusive  manufacture  of  linen  paper ;  and  it 
is  also  stated,  that  the  Arabs,  when  in  Spain,  on  account  of 
the  scarcity  of  cotton,  and  the  abundance  of  flax  and  hemp, 
substituted  the  latter  material  in  its  preparation.  Their  first 
manufactories  were  at  Xativa,  now  San  Felipe. 

Forty  years  ago,  three  men,  by  handwork,  could  scarcely 
manufacture  4,000  small  sheets  of  paper  a  day,  while  now  they 
can  produce  60,000  in  the  same  time.  It  has  been  calculated, 
that  if  the  paper  produced  yearly  by  six  machines  could  be  put 
together,  the  sheet  would  encircle  the  world. 

Xowhere  is  paper  so  much  used  as  in  the  United  States. 
In  France,  with  35,000,000  of  inhabitants,  only  70,000  tons 
are  produced  yearly,  of  which  one-seventh  is  for  exportation. 
In  England,  with  28,000,000  of  inhabitants,  66,000  tons  are 
produced  ;  while  in  this  country  the  amount  is  nearly  as  great 
as  in  France  and  England  together. 

A  large  proportion  of  this  consumption  of  paper  is  directed 
to  the  2,000  newspapers  which  are  incessantly  springing  up  in 
all  sections  of  this  country — some  to  flourish,  but  more  born 
but  to  die,  and  make  room  for  the  succession. 

When  first  the  art  of  Printing  was  discovered,  only  one  side 
of  a  page  was  impressed  :  the  printers  had  not  yet  found  out 
the  expedient  of  impressing  the  other.  When  the  editions 
were  intended  to  be  curious,  they  omitted  to  print  the  first 
letter  of  a  chapter,  for  which  they  left  a  blank  space,  that  it 
might  be  painted  or  illuminated,  at  the  option  of  the  purchaser. 
Several  ancient  volumes  of  these  early  times  have  been  found, 
where  these  letters  are  wanting,  as  they  neglected  to  have 
them  painted.  It  was  the  glory  of  the  learned,  when  the  art 
was  first  established,  to  be  correctors  of  the  press,  to  the 
eminent  printers.  Physicians,  lawyers,  and  bishops,  as  well 
as  authors,  occupied  this  department.  The  printers  then 
added  frequently  to  their  names  those  of  the  correctors  of  the 


22  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


press ;  and  editions  were  valued  according  to  the  abilities  of 
the  corrector. 

About  the  close  of  the  fourteenth  century,  the  world  was 
blessed  with  the  invention  of  this  art.  Three  German  cities — 
Haarlem,  Mentz,  and  Strasburg — claim,  each  one,  the  honor 
of  having  been  the  place  of  the  original  discovery,  but  the 
evidence  rather  inclines  to  favor  the  claim  of  Mentz  ;  for,  at 
this  city,  either  by  John  Guttenberg  or  Peter  Schoeffer,  in  the 
year  1440,  were  invented  movable  types  ;  with  which  movable 
types,  the  first  book  printed  was  the  Bible,  and  that  in  the 
year  1450,  though  some  authorities  declare  that  the  Latin 
Bible,  or  Vulgate,  was  first  printed  on  the  Continent,  in  1462. 
Lawrence  I.  Coster,  of  Haarlem,  discovered  the  art  of  impress 
ing  characters  on  paper,  by  means  of  wooden  blocks,  in  the 
year  1430  ;  and  we  may  here  remark  that  the  ground  of  doubt 
between  Guttenberg  and  Schoeffer  seems  to  be  an  opinion 
pretty  well  authenticated,  that  the  types  of  the  former  were  of 
wood — those  of  the  latter  of  metal  ;  and  that  while  the  inven 
tion  of  the  one  happened  in  the  year  1440,  that  of  the  other 
was  consummated  at  some  time  during  the  following  ten  years. 

John  Faust,  or  Fust,  was  only  concerned  as  a  patron  of 
Schoeffer,  but  as  such  he  was  sincere  and  energetic.  Some 
writers  declare  that  Fust  went  to  Paris,  carrying  with  him  for 
sale  a  number  of  printed  Bibles.  That  the  similarity  of  all 
these  books  caused  the  French  to  distrust  him  as  a  conjuror. 
That  at  first  they  threatened  to  indict  him,  and  thus  extorted 
the  secret.  And  they  add  that  from  this  affair,  the  popular 
story  of  Dr.  Faustus  took  its  rise.  This,  however,  is  false. 
Haywood  tells  us  (see  "  Goethe's  Faust"),  that  "  Johann"  (or 
John)  "  Faust"  (or  Faustus — that  is,  the  conjuror)  "  was  born 
at  Kunklingen,  within  the  territory  of  Wiirtemberg,  of  parents 
'  low  of  stock'  (as  Marlow  expresses  it),  some  time  towards  the 
fifteenth  century.  He  must  not  be  confounded  with  Faust  (or 
Fust),  the  printer,  who  flourished  more  than  half  a  century 
before." 


BOOK-CRAFT. 


To  the  German  triumvirate  belongs  the  honor  of  having 
been  the  first  to  employ  movable  types,  matrices,  and  punches 
in  printing. 


Trithemius,  a  contemporary,  ascribes  the  invention  of  movable 
types  jointly  to  Gutenberg  and  Faust,  and  an  ancient  chronicle 
at  Cologne  notes  that,  after  ten  years'  preparation,  the  art  of 
printing  began  to  be  practised  in  the  year  1450.  The  former 
authority  further  states  that  the  parties  expended  in  the  print 
ing  of  the  first  twelve  sheets  of  the  Bible,  4,000  florins. 
The  Bible  in  question  is  the  Latin  Yulgatc,  commonly  known 
by  the  name  of  the  Mazarin  Bible,  from  a  copy  of  it  having 
been  discovered,  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  in  the  Bib- 
hothcque  Mazarine* 

It  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  advent  of  the  "  divine  art"  was 
sanctified  by  religion.  It  was  fitting  that  it  "  should  thus  first 
be  devoted  to  the  Sacred  Oracles,  since  no  book  had  been  so 

*  In  Tinr.pcrley's  amusing  volume  on  "  Printers  and  Printing,"  it  is  stated  that  John 
Muller  (surnamed  Regiomontanus)  who  died  at  Rome,  in  the  year  1476,  was  for  gome 
tune  suspected  of  being  the  inventor  of  printing,  • 


24  SALAD      FOlt      THE      SOCIAL. 

frequently  transcribed  in  earlier  times,  and  none,  we  may  add, 
has  been  so  often  reprinted  in  later.  The  majority  of  all  the 
books  ever  published  owe  much  of  their  essence  and  genius  to 
its  inspirations.  The  muse  of  Milton,  Cowper,  and  a  host  of 
others  in  sacred  song,  have  found  in  the  Bible  their  Pierian 
spring  ;  and  even  the  world's  poet,  Shakspeare,  is  no  exception 
to  the  fact.  Its  lessons  are  the  essence  of  religion,  "  the 
seminal  truth  of  theology,  the  first  principles  of  morals,  and  the 
guiding  axioms  of  political  economy."  It  has  moulded  the 
finest  minds  that  have  ever  blessed  humanity  ;  it  has  sustained 
the  heart  alike  of  prince  and  peasant,  under  suffering  and  sor 
row,  shed  a  halo  of  glory  around  the  grave,  and  lit  up  a  path 
way  to  a  brighter  world. 

Gutenberg  was  the  inventor  of  the  art,  and  Faust,  a  gold 
smith,  furnished  the  necessary  funds.  Had  it  been  a  single 
page,  or  even  an  entire  sheet,  which  was  then  produced,  there 
might  have  been  less  occasion  to  have  noticed  it ;  but  there 
was  something  in  the  whole  character  of  the  affair,  which,  if 
not  unprecedented,  rendered  it  singular  in  the  usual  current  of 
human  events.  This  Bible  was  in  two  folio  volumes,  which 
have  been  justly  praised  for  the  strength  and  beauty  of  the 
paper,  the  exactness  of  the  register,  and  the  lustre  of  the  ink. 
The  work  contained  twelve  hundred  and  eighty-two  pages,  and, 
being  the  first  ever  printed,  of  course  involved  a  long  period 
of  time,  and  an  immense  amount  of  mental,  manual,  and  mecha 
nical  labor,  and  yet  for  a  long  time  after  it  had  been  finished 
and  offered  for  sale,  not  a  human  being,  save  the  artists  them 
selves,  knew  how  it  had  been  accomplished.  Of  the  printed 
Bible,  twenty-six  copies  are  said  to  be  in  existence  ;  some  of 
them  are  printed  on  vellum.  Of  the  known  remaining  copies, 
ten  are  in  England,  there  being  a  copy  in  the  libraries  of 
Oxford,  Edinburgh,  and  London,  and  seven  in  the  collections 
of  different  noblemen.  The  vellum  copy  has  been  sold  as 
high  as  $2,500.  Thus,  as  if  to  mark  the  noblest  purpose 
to  which  the  art  could  ever  be  applied,  the  first  book 


BOOK-CRAFT.  25 


printed    with    cut    metal    types    was    the    Bible,    in    1444- 
1460. 

Faust  displaced  Gutenberg  from  the  partnership  in  1455, 
and  subsequently  carried  on  the  business  with  Schceffer ; 
one  of  their  first  works  was  a  Psalter,  which  appeared  in  1451. 
Faust  is  supposed  to  have  died  of  the  plague  in  1466.  After 
his  death,  Schceffer  had  the  meanness  to  arrogate  to  his  family 
the  entire  invention  of  the  art  of  printing — and  succeeded  so 
far  as  to  obtain  from  the  Emperor  Maximilian  some  lucrative 
privileges  authenticating  his  pretensions.  By  this  act  of  the 
Emperor,  Gutenberg  was  robbed  of  his  deserved  reputation — 
his  discoveries  being  attributed  to  his  rival,  and  he  regarded 
as  a  pretender.  He  was  dead,  however,  before  Schoeffer  dared 
advance  his  claim.  Upon  quitting  his  partners,  he  had  estab 
lished  a  printing  press  at  Mentz,  under  the  patronage  of  Dr. 
Conrad  Humbracht,  who  advanced  the  necessary  funds.  In 
1460,  he  printed  the  great  Latin  dictionary,  Catholicon  Jo- 
hatmis  de  Balbus.  In  1465,  he  was  attached  to  the  Count 
Adolphus,  of  Nassau  ;  and  is  supposed  to  have  died  in  1468. 

The  Dutch  have  disputed  with  the  Germans  the  honor 
of  the  invention  of  printing,  claiming  it  in  behalf  of  Laurence 
Coster,  a  citizen  of  Haarlem.  Their  claim  will  not,  however, 
bear  investigation,  and  vanishes  beneath  the  scrutiny  to  which 
it  has  been  subjected  by  rigid  inquiries. 

After  these  pioneer  printers  had  dissolved  partnership,  in 
a  few  years  the  business  began  to  expand  itself  to  such  an 
extent  that,  in  1530,  there  were  upwards  of  200  printing- 
presses  in  Europe. 

Gutenberg  at  first  took  impressions  from  his  types  by  fas 
tening  them  upon  a  table — coloring  them  with  writing-ink — 
spreading  the  paper  over  them,  and  pressing  it  with  a  rubber 
of  horn. 

Faust  invented  printing-ink,  and  Gutenberg  constructed  a 
rude  printing-press.  Iron  presses  were  earliest  employed  by 
Lord  Stanhope. 

2 


26  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


Between  the  years  1467  and  1415,  printing-offices  were 
opened  at  Cologne,  Augsburg,  Nuremberg,  and  Lubec.  Monks, 
called  "  Brothers  of  common  life,"  founded  printing  establish 
ments  at  Brussels  and  Louvain,  in  Belgium.  In  the  year 
1467,  a  press  was  transported  to  Rome  ;  some  years  after 
wards,  to  Venice,  Milan,  and  Naples.  The  printing  art  came 
to  Paris  in  1469.  It  met  with  obstacles  on  the  part  of 
copyists,  who  feared  to  lose  their  means  of  subsistence  ;  bat 
the  king,  Louis  XI.,  protected  the  printers. 

The  art  was  conveyed  from  Haarlem  to  England  in  1468, 
and  by  Bourchier,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  This  prelate 
sent  to  Haarlem,  Turner,  master  of  the  robes,  and  a  mer 
chant  named  William  Caxton,  to  learn  the  art.  Caxton  pre 
vailed  with  Corseilles  to  come  over  to  Oxford,  and  there  set 
up  a  press.  But  before  he  left  the  continent,  he  translated 
from  the  French,  and  in  the  year  1471  published  at  Cologne, 
the  first  book  ever  printed  in  the  English  language,  entitled, 
The  Recuyell  of  the  Historyes  of  Troye.  "An  imperfect  copy 
of  this  work,"  says  Duppa,  in  his  notes  to  Johnson's  Jour 
nal  of  a  Tour  to  Wales,  "  was  put  up  to  sale  in  1812,  when 
there  was  a  competition  amongst  men  eminent  for  learning, 
rank  and  fortune  ;  and,  according  to  their  estimation  of  its 
value,  it  was  sold  for  the  sum  of  £1,060  10s."  In  the 
year  1474  (having  in  the  meantime  returned  to  England),  he 
published  the  first  book  ever  printed  in  England.  It  was  enti 
tled,  "  The  Game  and  Playe  of  the  Chesse  :  Translated  out  of 
the  Frenche,  and  emprynted  by  me  William  Caxtou.  Fynysshid 
the  last  day  of  Marche,  the  yer  of  our  Lord  God  a  thousand 
four  hondred,  Ixxiiij." 

Caxton,  who  died  at  the  age  of  81,  in  1491,  and  who,  in 
addition  to  having  had  the  honor  of  introducing  into  England 
the  "divine  art" — fitly  styled  "  ars  artium  omnium  conserva- 
trix" — was  an  eminent  instance  of  the  successful  cultivation 
of  letters,  combined  with  mechanical  pursuits.  Amidst  the 
onerous  charge  of  an  extensive  printing-office  in  one  of  the 


BOOK-CRAFT.  27 


chapelries  of  Westminster  Abbey,  containing  twenty-four 
presses,  with  about  a  hundred  workmen,  this  indefatigable  man 
actually  gave  to  the  world  no  fewer  than  five  thousand  closely 
printed  folio  pages  from  his  own  pen,  consisting  chiefly  of 
translations  from  the  French,  or  the  stock  of  his  own  vernacu 
lar  literature.  Several  of  his  works  have  subsequently  passed 
through  successive  editions,  and  about  sixty  of  his  books 
still  exist.  His  just  estimate  of  Chaucer,  which  he  first 
printed,  evinces  his  uncommon  critical  acumen.  On  more 
accounts  than  one,  therefore,  may  Caxton  be  fitly  styled  the 
father  of  the  English  press.  The  well-known  names  of  Pyn- 
son,  who  died  1529,  Wynkin  de  Worde,  in  1534,  and  Wyer, 
in  1542,  although  justly  celebrated  for  the  improvements  they 
effected  in  the  typographic  art,  the  former  having  first  con 
structed  and  introduced  into  use  the  Roman  letters,  claim  a 
passing  mention. 

Printing  hitherto  had  been  for  the  most  part  in  Latin  ; 
but  the  Italians  in  1480  began  to  print  with  Greek  and  He 
brew  types,  and  they  were  the  first  to  use  these. 

In  the  sixteenth  century,  according  to  Dr.  Gregory, 
there  appeared  various  editions  of  books  in  Syriac,  Arabic, 
Persian,  Armenian,  Coptic  or  Egyptian,  characters. 

Anthony  Kobnrger,  of  Nuremburgh,  was  a  person  eminent 
for  his  learning  as  well  as  for  his  elegance  in  printing. 
He  was  styled  the' prince  of  printers,  and  was  likewise  a  very 
extensive  bookseller.  Besides  a  spacious  warehouse  at  Lyons, 
he  had  agents  in  every  important  city  in  Christendom, 
and  kept  sixteen  open  shops,  with  a  vast  number  of  ware 
houses.  He  printed  thirteen  editions  of  the  Bible  in  folio, 
which  are  esteemed  as  extremely  beautiful  specimens  of  the 
art  ;  but  his  chef-d'ceuvre  was  the  German  Bible,  printed  in 
1483,  folio,  the  most  splendid  of  all  the  ancient  German  Bibles, 
being  embellished  with  many  curious  wood-cuts. 

About  the  year  1547,  we  find  honorable  mention  made  of 
the  name  of  Robert  Copland,  formerly  engaged  in  Caxton's 


28  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


office  ;  he  was  a  stationer,  printer,  author,  and  translator. 
The  "  Rose  Garland,"  in  Fleet-street,  was  his  well-known  resi 
dence.  Anthony  Scoloker  was  another,  who  translated  seve 
ral  works  which  he  printed,  one  of  which,  affording  no  unequi 
vocal  proof,  however,  of  his  prophetic  skill,  was  intituled,  "  A 
Juste  Reckenynge,  or  Accompte  of  the  Whole  Number  of  the 
Yeares,  from  the  Beginnynge  of  the  Worlde  unto  the  present 
Yeare  of  1547;  a  Certayne  and  Sure.  Declaration  that  the 
Worlde  is  at  an  Ende."  Robert  Stephens,  the  renowned 
Parisian  printer  and  scholar,  was  his  contemporary  ;  his  erudi 
tion  as  a  critic  and  etymologist,  is  sufficiently  evinced  by  his  great 
work,  "  Dictionarium  seu  Latiuse  Linguae  Thesaurus."  De  Thon, 
the  historian,  passed  the  following  merited  eulogium  upon  this 
distinguished  scholar  : — "  Not  only  France,  but  the  whole  Chris 
tian  world,  owes  more  to  him  than  to  the  greatest  warrior 
that  ever  extended  the  possessions  of  his  country  ;  and 
greater  glory  has  redounded  to  Francis  I.  by  the  industry 
alone  of  Robert  Stephens,  than  from  all  the  illustrious, 
warlike,  and  pacific  undertakings  in  which  he  was  engaged. 
His  son  and  successor  was  also  of  great  classical  attainments, 
and  wrote  many  learned  works."  We  next  come,  in  the  order 
of  date,  to  the  name  of  John  Day,  the  equally  prolific  printer 
and  parent — having  introduced  into  the  world  two  hundred 
and  forty-five  books,  and  twenty-seven  children  !  He  lived  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Ilolborn  Conduit." 

Richard  Grafton,  of  London,  was  distinguished  alike  for  his 
erudition,  as  well  as  being  an  eminent  printer.  He  was  a 
linguist,  and  also  the  friend  of  Cranmer  and  Lord  Cromwell. 
Grafton  lived  in  the  house  of  the  Grey  Friars,  since  known  as 
Christ's  Hospital. 

His  first  work  was  the  English  Bible,  printed  abroad  in 
1535,  which  he  presented  to  Archbishop  Cranmer  and  Lord 
Cromwell. 

Thoresby  mentions  the  Xew  Testament  printed  at  Paris  by 
Bishop  Bonner's  means.  In  November,  1539,  the  king,  by  his 


BOOK-CRAFT.  29 


letters  patent,  "  directed  to  all  and  singular  printers  and  book 
sellers  within  this  his  realm,"  &c.,  appointed  the  Lord  Crom 
well,  keeper  of  his  privy  seal,  to  take  special  care  and  charge 
"  that  no  manner  of  person  or  persons  within  his  realm  shall 
enterprise,  attempt,  or  set  in  print  any  Bible  in  the  English 
tongue,  of  any  manner  of  volume,  during  the  space  of  five  years 
next  ensuing  the  date  thereof,  but  only  all  such  as  shall  be 
deputed,  assigned,  and  admitted  by  the  said  Lord  Cromwell." 
Accordingly,  it  appears,  by  the  Bibles  printed  this  very  year, 
his  lordship  assigned  others  besides  Grafton  and  Whitchurch, 
as  John  Biddel,  Thomas  Berthelet,  etc.,  to  print  Bibles  in  the 
English  tongue. 

The  first  of  these,  printed  this  year,  was  a  Bible  in  large 
folio,  with  the  following  title  :  "  The  Byble  in  Englyshe,  that 
is  to  say,  the  Content  of  all  the  Holie  Scripture  bothe  of  .the 
Olde  and  Xewe  Testament,  truely  translated  after  the  Yeryte 
of  the  Hebrue  and  Greke  Textes,  by  the  dylygent  Studye 
of  dyuerse  excellent  learned  men,  expert  in  the  forsayde 
tonges. 

"  Prynted  by  Richard  Graftou  and  Edward  Whitchurch, 
"  Cum  priuilegio  ad  imprimendum  solum.     1539." 

Grafton  was  in  so  much  favor,  that  we  find,  in  Rymer's 
Ftedera,  a  patent  dated  January  28,  1543,  as  follows  : — 

"  Pro  divino  sercirio,  de  libris  imprimendis." 

In  1545,  he  printed  King  Henry  YIII.'s  Primer,  both  in 
Latin  and  English,  with  red  and  black  ink,  for  which  he  had  a 
patent,  that  is  inserted  at  the  end,  expressed  in  much  the  same 
words  as  the  preceding  one  of  1543. 

In  the  first  year  of  Edward  VI.,  Grafton  was  favored  with 
a  special  patent,  granted  to  him  for  the  sole  printing  of  all  the 
Statute  Books.  This  is  the  first  patent  that  is  taken  notice 


30  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


of  by  that  diligent  and  accurate  antiquarian,  Sir  William 
Dugdale. 

An  eminent  printer  was  Christopher  Plantin,  of  Antwerp, 
who  lived  in  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  century.  "  I 
am  well  aware,"  says  his  biographer,  '•  that  many  illustrious 
men  have  flourished  as  printers,  such  as  the  Aldi  of  Italy, 
the  Frobens  from  Germany,  and  the  Stephenses  from  France  ; 
but  these  were  all  eclipsed  in  the  single  name  of  Plantin  :  if 
these,"  he  continues,  "  were  the  stars  of  their  own  hemispheres 
he  was  the  Sun,  not  of  Antwerp  merely,  nor  Belgium,  but 
the  world  !"  His  offices  at  Antwerp,  Germany,  and  France 
seem  to  have  been  established  upon  the  most  magnificent  scale, 
and,  like  one  of  his  great  predecessors,  Stephens,  he  indulged 
himself  in  the  luxury  of  silver  types.  At  one  time,  he  is 
reported  to  have  paid  to  his  proof-readers  and  compositors  no 
less  than  one  hundred  golden  crowns  per  diem,  no  equivocal 
evidence  of  the  extent  of  his  operations.  lie  also  retained,  not 
only  in  his  friendship,  but  in  his  employ,  a  host  of  the  literary 
men  of  his  day,  among  the  number  the  renowned  De  Thou. 
His  chef-d'oeuvre — which  has  been  styled  the  eighth  wonder 
of  the  world — was  his  Biblia  Polyglotta,  in  eight  folio  volumes, 
copies  of  which,  not  being  now  rare,  produce  no  extraordinary 
sums  at  auction. 

Then  we  have  the  no  less  illustrious  names  of  Francis 
Raphelengius,  the  celebrated  scholar,  and  printer  to  the  Uni 
versity  of  Leyden  ;  and  Louis  Elzevir,  of  the  same  place  (temp. 
1595 — 1616),  the  founder  of  the  most  learned  family  of  printers 
that  ever  adorned  the  republic  of  letters.  Elzevir,  is  said  to 
have  been  the  first  who  observed  the  distinction  between  the  use  of 
the  consonant  v,  and  the  vowel  u  (which  had  been  recommended 
by  Ramus  and  other  writers  long  before,  but  never  regarded), 
as  also  the  vowel  i  from  the  consonant  j.  Aldus  Manutius,  with 
whom  terminated  a  family  of  printers  scarcely  less  distin 
guished  in  the  literary  history  of  their  times,  extending  to 
upwards  of  a  century,  was  grandson  to  the  celebrated  Aldus. 


BOOK- CRAFT.  31 


His  extraordinary  precocity  was  displayed  by  the  successful 
publication  of  a  production  from  his  own  pen  in  his  eleventh 
year  ;  and  his  great  work,  De  Veterum  Notarum  Explanations, 
has  not  only  immortalized  his  name,  but  has  been  long  since 
acknowledged  as  a  standard  for  reference  by  the  learned.  In 
the  reign  of  the  second  Charles,  we  find  the  name  of  John 
Ogilby,  geographical  printer  to  the  Court,  and  noted  as  having 
written  some  books,  including  a  pompous  account  of  the  coro 
nation  of  that  monarch,  which  he  was  appointed  to  write,  in 
1661.  He  also  published  a  magnificent  Bible,  with  illustra 
tions,  for  which  he  was  remunerated  by  the  British  Parliament. 
Towards  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  Palliot,  the 
historiographer,  printer,  and  bookseller  to  the  King  of  France, 
was  also  highly  distinguished  as  a  genealogist.  As  a  proof  of 
his  untiring  perseverance  and  industry,  it  is  recorded  that  he 
left,  at  his  decease,  thirteen  volumes  of  MSS.,  in  addition  to 
the  five  folios  which  he  had  already  published,  the  plates  of 
which  were  likewise  executed  by  his  own  hands.  Contempo 
rary  with  him,  lived  Rothscholtz,  the  bookseller,  of  Nuremberg, 
whose  name  is  distinguished  in  the  world  of  letters  by  his  great 
work,  in  two  volumes  quarto,  entitled,  A  Short  Essay  towards 
an  Ancient  and  Modern  History  of  Booksellers. 

In  early  times,  bookselling  and  printing  were  not  only  often 
combined,  but,  in  some  instances,  it  appears,  authorship  also 
was  united  with  these  several  branches  of  handicraft. 

Numerous  instances  attest  that  a  natural  and  intimate  con 
nection  subsists  between  printing  and  knowledge,  and  that 
printers  have  themselves  contributed  by  their  genius  to  adorn 
the  annals  of  their  age  :  rising  from  the  servile  labors  of  the 
press  to  eminent  distinction,  and  diffusing  the  light  of  science 
even  in  the  darkest  times.  Bayle  speaks  of  one  who  composed 
and  printed  a  work  simultaneously,  setting  up  the  types  with 
his  hands,  as  fast  as  his  brain  concocted  his  sentences,  without 
the  intervention  of  manuscript  corrections. 

Lackington,  the  well-known  bookseller,  insists  that  there  is 


32  SALAD      FOR     THE     SOCIAL. 


an  affinity  between  the  two  pursuits.  He  writes  :  "among  all 
the  schools  where  a  knowledge  of  mankind  may  be  acquired,  I 
know  of  none  equal  to  that  of  a  bookseller's  shop,  where,  if 
any  one  have  any  taste  for  literature,  he  may  be  said  to  feed 
his  mind,  as  cooks'  and  butchers'  wives  get  fat  by  the  smell  of 
meat." 

It  cannot  be  denied,  however,  that  there  are  numerous 
exceptions  to  this  supposed  rule  ;  for  the  instances  of  eminent 
printers  and  booksellers  we  have  presented,  are  from  the  many 
whose  commerce  with  literature  seemed  to  have  awakened  little 
or  no  sympathy  with  its  pleasures,  its  pains,  or  its  pursuit. 
The  remark  is  not  less  applicable  to  our  own  times. 

Perhaps  the  most  curious  instance  that  ever  occurred  of  an 
author-publisher,  if  we  may  venture  so  to  style  him,  was  that 
of  an  individual  well  known,  years  since,  in  the  streets  of 
London,  who  was  no  less  remarkable  for  the  novel  method  he 
adopted  for  displaying  his  productions  before  the  world,  even 
without  the  aid  of  the  press,  than  as  presenting  the  singular 
anomaly  of  writer  and  publisher  combined,  giving  to  the  public 
his  labors  anonymously.  How  often  have  we  seen  him  in  our 
boyish  peregrinations,  and  lingered  to  gaze  on  his  ingenious 
performances.  The  "  mammoth  sheets  "  of  our  own  day,  stu 
pendous  as  they  are,  shrink  into  a  paltry  insignificance  as  we 
trace  out  in  mental  vision  the  broad  superficies  of  the  former. 
Nor  was  the  literary  department  the  only  feature  that  exhi 
bited  the  skill  of  this  luminous  writer  ;  he  united  within  him 
self  the  artist  also,  equally  excelling  in  design,  engraving,  and 
chirography.  A  black's  head,  with  a  ring  through  his  nose, 
and  a  group  of  fish,  were  portrayed  upon  the  pavement  with 
inimitable  fidelity.  This  singular  genius,  who  used  to  fix  his 
location  wherever  the  pavement  was  sufficiently  smooth, 
was  a  cripple,  and  it  was  amusing  to  observe,  if  among 
the  admiring  crowd,  any  inquisitive  little  urchin  happened  to 
encroach  too  closely  on  his  prescribed  limits,  the  implement 
which  supplied  to  him  the  lack  of  limbs,  was  made  the  sum- 


BOOK-CRAFT.  33 


rnary  instrument  to  visit  upon  the  shins  of  the  offender  the 
penalty  of  his  trespass.  His  writing  was  exceedingly  well  exe 
cuted,  and  bis  poetic  lucubrations  were  generally  no  less  admi 
rably  pointed — we  regret  that  our  recollection  supplies  us  with 
no  more  than  the  following  specimen  : 

"  Let  no  rude  footsteps  on  this  pavement  tread, 
For  know,  these  very  flags  to  me  are  bread ! — 
Oh,  spare  a  penny,  or  indeed  'tis  plain, 
The  very  stones  themselves  cry  out  in  vain  !" 

This  hapless  votary  of  the  muse  has  passed  away  ;  and 
though  unchronicled  in  any  "  Curiosities  of  Literature,"  we 
trust  we  have  said  enough  to  rescue  his  memory — non  omnis 
moriar  ! — from  utter  annihilation. 

Craving  indulgence  for  the  digression  into  which  the  recur 
rence  of  an  early  association  has  beguiled  us,  we  retrace  our 
steps,  while  we  solicit  the  reader  to  accompany  us  adown  the 
stream  of  time  a  few  centuries  back.  In  the  olden  time,  prior 
to  the  era  of  printing,  the  MSS.  of  authors  were  obliged  to  be 
subjected  to  the  ordeal  of  critical  censorship,  previous  to  their 
being  allowed  public  perusal ;  their  works  being  required  to  be 
read  over  before  the  Universities,  for  three  successive  days,  or 
by  appointed  judges  ;  when,  if  approved,  copies  were  allowed 
to  be  executed  by  the  monks,  scribes,  and  illuminators. 

Even  in  the  classical  days  of  Greece  and  Rome,  we  find  a 
trade  carried  on  in  books ;  those  works  most  in  demand  being 
multiplied  by  the  scribes  and  copyists.  An  exclusive  traffic  in 
the  MSS.  of  those  days  seems  to  have  been  carried  on  along 
the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  the  Greek  colonies  of 
the  Euxine. 

During  the  middle  ages,  the  booksellers  were  styled  Statio- 
narii  at  the  Universities  of  Paris  and  Bologna  ;  they  used  to 
sell  and  loan  MSS.  This  was  the  commencement  of  the  book 
selling  business.  A  species  of  literary  censorship,  it  appears, 
was  first  established  at  Paris,  in  1342,  when  a  license  from  the 

2* 


34  SALAD     FOK     THR      SOCIAL. 


University  was  requisite  previously  to  engaging  in  such  busi 
ness.  The  booksellers  were,  in  fact,  regularly  matriculated  by 
entry  on  its  roll,  and  considered  as  its  officers  ;  the  prices  of 
all  books  were  also  fixed  according  to  the  tariff  of  four  sworn 
booksellers,  by  the  institution  ;  a  fine  was  imposed  for  selling 
an  imperfect  copy  of  a  work,  and  a  catalogue,  with  the  prices 
annexed,  was  further  required  to  be  always  kept  in  the  shops. 
This  censorship  was  afterwards  invested  in  the  person  of  Ber- 
thold,  Archbishop  of  Mentz,  in  1486,  and  again  renewed  with 
greater  vigor,  with  respect  to  books,  by  the  Council  of  Trent, 
in  1546,  being  subsequently  enforced  by  the  popes,  clown  to 
1563,  by  whom  several  Indices  Librorum  Prohibitorum,  were 
issued.  In  France  the  censorship  was  vested  in  the  Chancel 
lor  ;  in  England  it  was  exercised  by  the  well-known  Star- 
Chamber;  and  after  the  abolition  of  that  court,  by  Parliament 
itself  ;  it  was  abolished  in  England  about  1694,  although  it 
still  continues  iu  force,  we  believe,  in  several  of  the  Continen 
tal  States. 

The  first  bookseller,  so  called,  on  record  was  Faustus.  He 
is  said  to  have  carried  his  books  for  sale  to  the  monasteries  in 
France  and  elsewhere  ;  and  the  first  bookseller  who  purchased 
MSS.  for  publication,  without  possessing  a  press  of  his  own, 
was  John  Otto,  of  Nuremberg  (1516). 

Resuming  our  notices  of  eminent  bibliopoles,  the  next  name 
we  find  in  the  order  of  date  is  that  of  John  Dunton  (temp. 
1659 — 1733).  Of  his  literary  performances,  his  Life  and 
Errors  is  the  best  known.  His  critical  acumen,  or  good  for 
tune,  were  certainly  not  much  at  fault ;  for  it  is  recorded,  that 
of  the  600  works  which  he  published,  only  seven  proved  unsuc 
cessful. 

Chiswell,  styled  for  pre-eminence  the  metropolitan  bookseller 
of  England,  and  whose  shrewdness  and  wit  stood  the  test  so 
admirably,  that  he  is  reported  never  to  have  issued  a  bad  book, 
was  also,  at  about  the  same  period,  an  author  of  some  consi 
deration.  Contemporary  with  him,  we  find  the  name  of  the 


BOOK-CKAFT.  35 


learned  linguist  and  bibliopolist  Samuel  Smith,  the  appointed 
bookseller  to  the  Royal  Society  ;  and  Thomas  Guy,  the 
founder  of  "Guy's  Hospital"  (whose  munificence  and  philan 
thropy  have  immortalized  his  name,  and  often  invoked  the 
blessing  of  suffering  humanity),  was  originally,  it  will  be  remem 
bered,  a  bookseller. 

John  Bagford,  an  industrious  antiquarian  bookseller,  who 
lived  to  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century,  was  the 
author  of  the  Collectanea,  bearing  his  name,  contained  in  the 
Harleian  MSS.  of  the  British  Museum. 

The  Tonsons  were  a  race  of  booksellers  who  did  honor  to 
their  profession  for  integrity,  and  by  their  encouragement  of 
authors.  Malone  published  several  letters  from  Dryden  to 
Tonson,  and  Tonson  to  Dryden.  Touson  displays  the  trades 
man,  acknowledging  the  receipt  of  the  Translations  of  Ovid, 
which  he  had  received  for  the  third  Miscellany,  with  which  he 
was  pleased,  but  not  with  the  price,  having  only  one  thousand 
four  hundred  and  forty-six  lines  for  fifty  guineas,  when  he 
expected  to  have  had  one  thousand  five  hundred  and  eighteen 
lines  for  forty  guineas  ;  adding  that  he  had  a  better  bargain 
with  Juvenal,  which  is  reckoned  not  so  easy  to  translate  as 
Ovid.  Most  of  the  other  letters  relate  to  the  translation 
of  Virgil,  and  contain  repeated  acknowledgments  of  Tonson's 
kind  attentions.  "I  thank  you  heartily,"  he  says,  "for  the 
sherry  ;  it  was  the  best  of  the  kind  I  ever  drank."  The 
current  coin  was  at  that  period  wretchedly  debased.  In 
one  letter  Dryden  says,  "  I  expect  forty  pounds  in  good  silver, 
not  such  as  I  had  formerly.  I  am  not  obliged  to  take  gold, 
neither  will  I,  nor  stay  for  it  above  four  and  twenty  hours 
after  it  is  due."  In  1698,  when  Dryden  published  his  Fables, 
Tonson  agreed  to  give  him  two  hundred  and  sixty-eight 
pounds  for  ten  thousand  verses  ;  and  to  complete  the  full 
number  of  lines  stipulated,  he  gave  the  bookseller  the  Epistle 
to  his  Cousin,  and  the  celebrated  Ode. 

Lintot,   Pope's    publisher,    was   also    an    author :    not   to 


36  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


speak  of  Miller,  Evans,  Griersson,  Motte,  and  Ruddiman,  the 
last-named,  a  man  of  profound  attainments  as  a  grammarian  and 
critic  ;  or  Richardson,  the  author  of  "  Sir  Charles  Grandison," 
and  other  popular  works,  \vh.ich  have  procured  for  him  the  title 
of  the  English  Rousseau  ; — and  Alexander  Crnden,  the  re 
nowned  compiler  of  the  "  Concordance  to-  the  Sacred  Script 
ures,"  whose  stupendous  labors  turned  him  mad.  A  curious 
anecdote  is  related  of  him  ;  one  evening  having  prepared  an 
excellent  supper  for  some  friends,  whom  he  had  invited  to  par 
take  of  a  favorite  dish  of  roast  turkey,  no  sooner  had  Mr.  Cru- 
den  arrived  and  made  his  appearance  in  the  room,  heated  with 
walking,  than  before  the  covers  could  be  removed,  while  his 
guests  were  eagerly  anticipating  their  pleasurable  repast,  up 
walked  the  distinguished  host,  and  advancing  to  the  smoking 
joint  in  question,  sans  ceremonie  pushed  back  his  wig,  and  with 
both  hands  plunged  in  the  gravy,  began  to  wash  his  head  and 
face  over  the  bird,  to  the  horror  and  dismay  of  the  astonished 
group  ! 

John  Buckley,  who  lived  to  about  1746,  was  a  learned  lin 
guist  ;  and  Paterson,  his  contemporary,  was  also  author  of 
many  works,  as  well  as  a  book-auctioneer  ;  he  was  indeed  one 
of  the  most  prominent  bibliopoles  of  his  age. 

About  the  same  date,  we  meet  with  the  name  of  Harris, 
the  author  of  Lexicon  Ttchnicum.  Chambers1  Cyclopaedia,  was 
the  basis  of  Dr.  Rees'  voluminous  work,  which  extended  to 
forty  volumes,  quarto.  This  celebrated  work  was  styled  "the 
pride  of  booksellers,  and  the  honor  of  the  English  nation." 
Rees  is  represented  as  a  man  equally  indefatigable,  per 
spicacious,  and  observant.  He  was  a  Quaker,  a  member  of 
Gray's  Inn,  and  at  his  demise,  which  occurred  at  Canonbury 
House,  Islington,  a  relic  of  the  times  of  Elizabeth,  he  was 
interred  within  the  cloisters  of  Westminster  Abbey. 

Hutton,  of  Birmingham,  who  has  been  not  inaptly  styled 
the  English  Franklin,  from  the  very  depths  of  obscurity  and 


BOOK -CRAFT.  37 


poverty,  fought  his  way  single-handed  to  wealth  and  literary 
eminence.  His  "  History  of  Birmingham  "  was  followed  by 
other  productions,  including  his  interesting  auto-biography. 
His  literary  labors  were  concluded  in  1811,  by  a  "Trip  to 
Coatham,"  a  watering-place  in  Yorkshire,  written  in  his  eighty- 
sixth  year,  in  which  he  thus  takes  leave  of  his  readers  :  "  As 
it  is  perhaps  the  last  time  I  shall  appear  before  the  world  as 
an  author,  I  may  be  allowed  the  liberty  of  exhibiting  my  per 
formances  in  that  character.  I  took  up  my  pen,  and  that  with 
fear  and  trembling,  at  the  advanced  age  of  fifty-six,  a  period 
when  most  would  lay  it  down.  I  drove  the  quill  thirty  years, 
during  which  time  I  wrote  and  published  fourteen  books." 

We  might  refer  to  the  names  of  Rushton,  of  Liverpool, 
M'Creery,  Debrett,  Allan  Ramsay,  the  poet,  Hansard,  Bul- 
iner,  Boydell,  Griffiths,  Harrison,  and  many  others  we  stay 
not  to  enumerate.  Worrall,  of  Bell  Yard,  who  died  1771, 
was  a  well-known  author-bookseller,  as  well  as  the  eccentric 
Andrew  Brice,  of  Exeter,  and  Sir  James  Hodges,  who  lived 
at  the  sign  of  the  Looking-Glass,  on  London  Bridge.  The 
names  should  not  be  omitted  of  Faulkner,  Gent,  Goadby,  and 
also  Smellie,  the  first  edition  of  whose  work  on  philosophy, 
yielded  him  one  thousand  guineas,  and  a  revenue  of  fame. 
Thomas  Osborne,  of  Gray's  Inn,  was  also  a  very  eminent 
bookseller,  although,  if  we  are  to  decide  with  Dr.  Dibdin,  not 
eminent  in  philological  attainments.  Boswell  relates  an  amus 
ing  circumstance  connected  with  the  professional  career  of  this 
worthy  bibliopole,  who,  it  is  said,  was  inclined  to  assume  an 
authoritative  air  in  his  business  intercourse.  One  day 
Johnson  happening  to  encounter  a  similar  exhibition  of  tem 
per,  the  Doctor  became  so  exasperated,  that  he  actually 
knocked  Osborne  down  in  his  shop  with  a  folio,  and  put  his 
foot  upon  his  neck  ;  and  when  remonstrated  with  on  such  sum 
mary  proceeding,  he  coolly  replied,  "  Sir,  he  was  impertinent 
to  me,  and  I  beat  him." 

Paternoster  Row,  the  great  literary  emporium  of  the  world, 


38  SALAD      FORTH*:      SOCIAL. 


did  not  assume  any  importance  till  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne, 
when  the  booksellers  began  to  forsake  their  former  principal 
mart,  Little  Britain,*  which  had  become  the  resort  of  all  the 
bibliopoles  about  the  time  of  the  renowned  John  Day,  termi 
nating  with  the  equally  celebrated  Ballard.  In  earlier  times 
Paternoster  Row  seems  to  have  been  more  noted  for  mercers, 
lacemen,  and  haberdashers,  for  a  newspaper  periodical  of  1707, 
adds  to  the  list,  "  the  sempstresses  of  Paternoster  Row."  We 
find,  however,  the  record  of  a  solitary  member  of  the  craft, 
one  Denham,  who  lived  then  and  there,  at  the  sign  of  the  Star, 
as  early  as  1564,  and  whose  significant  motto  ran  as  follows  : 

"  Os  homini  sublime  dedit." 

There  also  dwelt  turners  of  beads,  and  they  were  called  Pater 
noster  makers,  from  which,  of  course,  this  noted  place  origin 
ally  derived  its  name.  It  is  also  worthy  of  notice,  that  the 
parish  of  St.  Bride  has  been,  from  the  days  of  Pynson,  in 
1500,  down  to  the  days  of  Strahan,  the  location  of  the  "  King's 
Printer  ;"  while  the  number  of  those  carrying  on  the  profes 
sion  in  this  vicinity  are  singularly  numerous,  and  far  beyond 
the  average  of  any  other  parish  in  England,  or  perhaps  the 
world  ;  the  site  seems  to  have  become,  from  its  first  introduc 
tion,  the  Alma  Mater  of  the  printers.  Alex.  Hogg,  called  the 
king  of  Puffers,  was  moreover  reputed  a  man  of  considerable 
learning.  He  published  numerous  standard  works  in  the  serial 
form,  and  was  the  first  to  introduce  that  convenient,  and,  for 
the  spread  of  literature,  important  mode  of  publication.  He 
seems  to  have  exhausted  the  vocabularies  of  superlatives,  to 
express  the  beauty,  elegance,  and  magnificence  of  his  editions. 
He  also  was  reputed  to  possess  singular  tact  in  revivifying  a 
dull  book  by  re-christening  it,  and  otherwise  metamorphosing 

*  Anciently  Breton  street,  from  the  mansion  of  the  Duke  of  Bretasrne  on  that  spot, 
in  more  modern  times  became  the  "  Paternoster  Row  "  of  the  booksellers  ;  and  a  news 
paper  of  1664  states  them  to  have  published  here  within  four  years,  464  pamphlets. 
Here  lived  Rawlinson  ("  Tom  Folio"  of  The  Taller,  No.  153),  who  stuffed  four  cham 
bers  in  Gray's  Inn  so  full,  that  his  bed  was  removed  into  the  passage. 


BOOK-CRAFT.  39 


its  contents  when  its  sale,  under  its  original  condition,  had 
ceased. 

Among  our  notices  of  eminent  bibliopolists  we  must  not 
omit  the  name  of  Andrew  Millar,  or  the  laconic  missives  that 
passed  between  him  and  Dr.  Johnson — although  the  incident 
may  be  already  familiar  to  the  reader. 

The  great  lexicographer  having  wearied  the  expectation  of 
the  trade  for  his  long  promised  work,  and  no  less  the  patience 
of  his  publisher,  who  had  already  advanced  him,  in  various 
sums,  the  amount  of  £1,500,  he  was  induced,  on  receipt  of  the 
concluding  sheet  of  his  Dictionary,  to  send  to  the  doctor  the 
following  : — "  A.  Millar  sends  his  compliments  to  Mr.  Samuel 
Johnson,  with  money  for  the  last  sheet  of  copy  of  Dictionary, 
and  thanks  God  he  has  done  with  him."  To  which  our  author 
replied,  "  Samuel  Johnson  returns  compliments  to  Mr.  Andrew 
Millar,  and  is  very  glad  to  find  (as  he  does  by  his  note),  that 
Mr.  A.  M.  has  the  grace  to  thank  God  for  anything." 

Honorable  mention  also  should  be  made,  of  a  name  which 
has  never,  perhaps,  been  eclipsed  in  the  annals  of  book-craft. 
We  refer  to  that  of  Xicholls,  whose  "  Literary  Anecdotes,1' 
as  well  as  his  numerous  other  works,  will  link  his  memory  to 
many  a  distant  year,  and  whose  otherwise  immense  industry 
and  labors,  as  printer,  compiler,  and  publisher,  would  scarce 
require  the  aid  of  "  Sylvanus  Urban  "  to  immortalize  his  name. 
The  mantle  of  the  sire  has  descended  upon  the  son,  who  has 
published  several  historical  works,  and  among  others,  an 
"  Account  of  the  Guildhall,  London,"  historical  notices  of 
"Fonthill  Abbey,"  &c.  Sotheby,  the  celebrated  book-auc 
tioneer  of  London,  whose  establishment,  originally  founded  by 
Baker  (his  great  uncle),  in  1744,  was  one  of  the  earliest 
that  ever  existed  in  London.  He  was  a  man  of  extensive 
learning  and  literary  acquirements,  and  had  been  many  years 
occupied  in  collecting  materials  for  an  elaborate  work  on  the 
"Early  History  of  Printing."  He  is  favorably  known  to  the 
literary  world  by  his  interesting  work,  in  folio,  on  the  "  Hand- 


40  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


writing  of  Melanchthon  and  Luther."  Davy  of  Devonshire, 
once  a  bookseller  of  eminence,  was  afterwards  distinguished  for 
his  attainments  in  biblical  literature,  and  will  be  long  remem 
bered  by  his  voluminous  "  System  of  Divinity  in  a  series  of 
Sermons,"  comprising  26  vols.  8vo.  John  Gough.  of  Dublin, 
bookseller,  was  also  author  of  "  A  Tour  in  Ireland,"  "  History 
of  Quakers,'1  and  other  works  of  note.  William  Harrod  was  a 
worthy  but  eccentric  bookseller,  whose  pen  produced  several 
topographical  works.  Samuel  Rosseau,  who,  when  an  appren 
tice  to  Nicholls,  used  to  collect  old  epitaphs,  it  is  said  actually 
taught  himself  in  the  intervals  of  business,  Latin,  Greek,  He 
brew,  Syriac,  Persian  and  Arabic,  as  well  as  two  or  three  of 
the  modern  languages;  besides  having  edited,  in  after  life,  several 
useful  and  popular  works  on  elementary  education.  To  name 
Dodsley,  would  prove  almost  his  sufficient  eulogy  ;  his  valua 
ble  series  of  '•  Annual  Registers,"  and  collected  edition  of 
"  Old  Plays,"  being  literary  performances  sufficient  to  form 
a  monument  to  his  memory.  Nicholson,  of  Worcester,  is 
another  member  of  the  bookselling  fraternity,  who  has 
added  to  the  stores  of  literature  ;  and  the  name  of  Constable, 
of  Edinburgh,  whose  literary  taste  and  great  bibliogra 
phical  knowledge,  independently  of  his  having  been  the 
originator  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  sufficiently  entitle  him  to 
be  noticed  among  the  class.  Ballantyne,  the  publisher  and 
confidant  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  who  was  the  sprightly  author 
of  the  "  Widow's  Lodgings,"  and  other  works  in  the  depart 
ment  of  elegant  literature,  in  addition  to  his  vast  fund  of  anec 
dote,  is  equally  entitled  to  distinction  ;  as  well  as  Blackwood, 
for  seventeen  years  the  editor  of  the  inimitable  periodical  tluit 
still  retains  his  name.  James  Lackington — the  well-known 
.  London  bookseller — may  be  said  to  have  established  his  claim 
to  our  notice  from  the  publication  of  his  "  Auto-biography." 
From  the  shades  of  obscurity,  he  was  indebted  to  thriftiness 
and  parsimony,  no  less  than  to  his  untiring  zeal  and  exer 
tions,  for  his  ultimate  distinction.  Although  we  may  not 


BOOK-CRAFT.  41 


assign  to  his  character  any  literary  eminence,  his  career  was 
marked  by  singular  eccentricity  ;  his  spacious  •  establishment 
in  Finsbury  Square,  around  which  it  is  said  that  he  actu 
ally  drove  a  coach-and-four,  contained  an  immense  collection 
of  books.  Among  his  many  expedients  to  excite  notoriety, 
was  the  publication  of  an  advertisement,  stating  that  his  coach 
house  in  Old  Street  had  been  robbed  of  10,000  volumes,  con 
sisting  chiefly  of  Dr.  Watts'  "  Psalms  and  Hymns,"  a  manoeu 
vre  that  answered  the  two-fold  purpose  of  letting  the  world 
know  that  he  kept  a  coach,  and  that  even  so  large  a  quantity 
of  books  could  scarce  be  missed  from  his  collection.  He  also  had 
the  vanity  to  hoist  a  flag  at  the  top  of  his  house  as  a  signal, 
whenever  he  arrived  from  his  country-seat  at  Merton.  His 
vanity  was  certainly  very  amusing,  and  excusable  when  we  con 
sider  the  disadvantages  of  his  humble  origin.  At  ten  years 
old  he  commenced  crying  apple-pies  in  the  streets,  so  that,  as 
he  himself  intimates,  he  soon  began  to  make  a  noise  in  the 
world.  His  success  in  this  his  first  essay,  induced  speedily  the 
exchange  of  tarts  for  books  ;  thus  he  commenced  his  business 
as  a  bookseller,  which  one  year  yielded  him  a  profit  of  £5,000. 
Here  we  might  mention  the  name  of  John  Trusler,  who  was 
distinguished  as  a  doctor,  parson,  printer,  and  author  ; 
having  fabricated  many  useful  books,  and  amongst  others,  an 
"Essay  on  the  Rights  of  Literary  Property" — a  subject, 
even  at  the  present  day,  we  regret  to  find,  so  very  imper 
fectly  understood  among  the  mass  of  those  to  whose  enjoy 
ments  it  is  made  to  yield  so  large  a  contribution.  Bavies, 
in  1817,  compiled  and  published  several  amusing  bibliographic 
works,  one  entitled,  An  Olio  of  Bibliographical  and  Literary 
Anecdote  and  Memoranda,  and  A  Life  of  Garrick,  which 
went  through  several  editions.  Richard  Beatniffe,  bookseller, 
of  Norwich,  wrote  a  Tour  through  Norfolk,  and  other  works. 
Parkhurst  (Johnson's  friend)  was  of  distinguished  repute,  and 
occupied  many  years  in  preparing  a  Talmudic  Lexicon  !  Up- 
ham,  of  Exeter,  also  translated  sacred  books  of  the  Buddhists. 


42  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


Dr.  William  Russell,  who  died  at  the  close  of  the  last  cen 
tury,  the  well-known  author  of  the  History  of  Modern  Europe, 
was  originally  apprenticed  to  a  bookseller  ;  a  few  years  after 
which,  he  was  engaged  as  a  corrector  of  the  press,  and  sub 
sequently  was  enabled  to  devote  himself  to  authorship.  His 
historical  works  were  the  product  of  his  maturer  years. 
Whiston,  the  celebrated  translator  of  Josephus,  was  also  in 
his  early  days  a  bookseller.  The  same  might  be  remarked  of 
the  renowned  naturalist,  Smellie,  equally  celebrated  as  having 
produced  the  best  edition  of  Terence.  He  was,  moreover,  the 
antagonist  of  Hume,  the  refutation  of  whose  atheistical  opin 
ions  became  the  theme  of  his  pen.  Walwyn  was  a  bard- 
bookseller  of  eminence,  "  a  worthy  associate  of  Dryden." 
Watton,  who  kept  a  shop  near  St.  Dunstan's  many  years, 
published  and  compiled  several  excellent  works — among  them 
the  earliest  history  we  possess  of  Baronets,  occupying  five 
octavo  volumes.  Godwin,  whose  Caleb  Williams  alone  is 
sufficient  to  preserve  his  name  from  oblivion,  was  for  a  consid 
erable  time  a  bookseller,  and  ushered  many  books  of  value 
into  tangible  existence.  Dr.  Olinthus  Gregory  also  was  once 
a  bookseller  at  Cambridge,  and  a  teacher  of  mathematics 
at  the  same  time. 

John  Lander,  brother  of  the  African  traveller,  was  origin 
ally  a  bookseller.  Devoting  his  leisure  to  literary  pursuits, 
and  his  mind  being  inspired  with  a  love  of  enterprise,  he  not 
only  rendered  important  services  to  physical  science,  by  the 
discovery  of  a  problem  which  had  long  baffled  the  literati  of 
Europe,  and  which  has  placed  his  name  among  the  proudest  in 
the  annals  of  science,  but  he  bequeathed  to  the  world  one  of 
the  mo'st  delightful  and  interesting  narratives  of  travel  in  the 
English  language.  Sir  Richard  Phillips,  of  whose  elementary 
writings,  it  is  enough  commendation  to  remark  that  they  wefe 
sufficiently  productive  to  become  the  adequate  support  of  his 
declining  years,  was  not  only  the  first  publisher  to  introduce  a 
reduction  in  the  price  of  books,  but  the  originator  of  a  fund 


BOOK-CRAFT.  43 


for  oppressed  debtors — two  things  that  go  to  his  glory.  In 
the  same  category  was  Booth,  of  London,  whose  knowledge  of 
books,  critical,  not  titulary,  rendered  him  eminently  distin 
guished  ;  his  collection  was  exceedingly  rare  and  extensive. 
His  literary  capabilities  were  so  far  respected  by  Malone,  the 
commentator  of  Shakespeare,  that  he  consigned  to  him  the 
onerous  task  of  editing  and  arranging  the  annotations  and 
remarks  for  his  edition  of  the  great  dramatist.  He  also  edited 
and  compiled  several  documents  for  his  Account  of  the  Battle 
of  Waterloo,  two  volumes  quarto,  which  passed  through  the 
unprecedented  number  of  nine  editions  in  less  than  two  years. 

The  race  of  author-booksellers,  far  from  being  extinct,  is 
not  less  flourishing  at  the  present  day  than  it  has  been  at 
any  former  period — while  it  embraces  not  a  few  of  those 
who  are  emulous  of  the  classic  honors  of  their  sires,  and 
whose  genius  and  labors  will  supply  a  worthy  sequel  to  the 
past,  and  add  ?,  new  lustre  to  the  bibliographic  history  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  We  will  commence  with  noticing  the  son 
of  the  senior  member  of  one  of  the  most  distinguished  book 
selling  houses  in  the  British  metropolis— we  refer  to  the  Long 
mans.  William  Longman  has  distinguished  himself  in  the 
science  of  entomology,  a  subject  that  has  already  successfully 
engaged  his  pen.  William  Wood,  the  natural  history  book 
seller,  is  undoubtedly  deserving  a  place  among  the  scientific 
writers  of  the  day,  which  his  esteemed  work,  Zoography,  or 
the  Beauties  of  Nature  Displayed,  in  three  large  volumes, 
sufficiently  attests.  He  is  author  of  some  four  or  five  other 
important  works,  as  well  as  editor  of  the  beautiful  edition  of 
Buffon,  in  twenty  volumes  octavo,  and  contributor  of  several 
interesting  papers  to  the  Philosophical  Transactions* 

Moxon,  in  early  lift-,  published  Christmas,  a  poem,  and  a  vol 
ume  of  Sonnets,  which  were  so  favorably  noticed  by  Rogers,  the 
poet,  that  a  friendship  ensued,  which  has  since  ripened  with 

*  The  principal  publishers  of  London  are  Longman  &  Co.,  Uivingtons,  Whittaker  & 
Co.,  Hamilton  &  Co.,  Simpkin  &  Co.,  Smith,  Elder  &  Co.,  and  at  the  "  West  Bad,"  Mur- 


44  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


its  growth,  and  contributed  very  materially  to  the  success  of 
this  enterprising  and  accomplished  publisher.  To  the  classical 
reader  we  need  only  mention  the  name  of  A.  J.  Yalpy,  whose 
edition  of  the  Variorum  Classics,  extended  to  161  vols.,  Svo., 
to  prove  his  cultivated  taste  and  liberality  of  enterprise. 
M'Cray  has  translated  .and  published  some  beautiful  Lyrics 
from  the  German  ;  William  Clarke,  originally  a  bookseller, 
gave  to  the  antiquary  an  exceedingly  curious  and  interesting 
account  of  libraries,  under  the  name  of  Repertariiim  Biblio- 
graphicum;  and  Rodd  was  the  translator  of  several  volumes 
from  the  Spanish.  One  of  the  best  bibliographers  .  was 
R.  H.  Evans,  the  auctioneer  and  bookseller  of  Pall-Mail  ;  his 
namesake,  J.  Evans,  acted  as  editor  in  the  instance  of  Aikiu's 
Essays  ;  Dolby,  bookseller,  gave  to  the  public  a  work  of 
ingenuity  and  labor,  The  Skakspearian  Dictionary;  and  Chris 
tie,  the  auctioneer,  has  also  produced  four  abstruse  works,  on 
the  taste  and  literature  of  the  ancient  Greeks,  which  he 
compiled  during  the  intervals  of  his  business  occupation  ; 
Griffith,  the  bookseller,  compiled  a  catalogue  of  ancient  and 
modern  poetry,  entitled  Bibliographia,  Anglo-Podica  ;  and  Dr. 
Roller  and  Mr.  Bach  were  both  translators  and  German 
critics,  as  well  as  booksellers.  Another  conspicuous  member 
of  the  class  was  Cochrane,  who  was  for  some  time  an  eminent 
bookseller,  and  the  able  and  discriminating  editor  of  the  For- 
eiyn  Quarterly  Review,  for  seven  years.  He  was  also  selected 
by  the  trustees  to  draw  up  the  catalogue  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's 
choice  and  valuable  library  at  Abbottsford — a  most  delightful 
labor  of  love ;  and  on  the  formation  of  the  London  Library, 
was,  among  a  host  of  competitors,  unanimously  elected  to  the 
offices  of  librarian  and  secretary. 

We  might  also  mention  Stewart,  the  eminent  linguist,  and 


ray,  Bentley,  Saunders  &  Otlcy,  Hatchard,  Nisbett,  Bohn,  Moxon,  and  although  now 
deceased,  we  should  not  omit  the  well-known  publisher  of  the  Aldine  edition  of  the 
Poets — Pickering.  Many  others  might  be  named,  among  them  Tegg,  Routledge,  Bogue, 
Chapman  &  Hall,  Weale,  &c. 


BOOK-CRAFT.  45 


known  as  the  skillful  compiler  of  the  celebrated  catalogue  of 
Miss  Currer's  library,  which  he  embellished  by  drawings  from 
his  own  pencil.  If  any  one  is  sceptical  enough,  after  what  has 
been  adduced  to  the  contrary,  to  assert  that  the  bookselling 
and  printing  business  has  been  wanting  ill  literary  distinction, 
we  pity  his  want  of  candor,  while  we  further  refer  him  to 
such  names  as  the  following  :  Arrowsmith,  the  celebrated 
map-publisher,  and  author  of  Ancient  and  Modern  Geography, 
as  well  as  several  elementary  works  in  geography,  some  of 
which,  with  the  former,  were  used  as  text-books  at  Oxford, 
Cambridge,  and  Eton  ;  J.  Wilson,  editor  of  the  Bibliogra 
phical,  and  Retrospective  Miscellany,  Shakspeariana,  &c.  ; 
Atkinson,  of  Glasgow,  possessed,  perhaps,  as  great  an 
acquaintance  with  Medical  Bibliography  as  any  person  of  his 
times,  as  his  curious  and  unique  work  on  that  subject 
proves.  One  of  the  leading  medical  journals  of  Europe  char 
acterized  it  as  "  one  of  the  most  remarkable  books  ever  seen — 
uniting  the  German  research  of  a  Plouquet  with  the  ravings 
of  a  Rabelais,  the  humor  of  Sterne  with  the  satire  of  Demo- 
critus,  the  learning  of  Burton  with  the  wit  of  Pindar." 
It  is  to  be  regretted  the  ingenious  author  did  not  live  to  com 
plete  the  whole  design. 

Ainsworth,  the  popular  historical  novelist,  was  originally  a 
bookseller  with  John  Ebers,  of  Bond  Street,  to  whom  he 
afterwards  became  related  by  marriage. 

Godwin  (author  of  Caleb  Williams,  St.  Leon,  &c.),  was 
once  a  bookseller  in  Skinner  Street  ;  Rodd,  who  kept  an 
extensive  establishment  for  the  sale  of  old  books,  translated  the 
Spanish  Ballads.  His  shop  was  the  resort  of  confirmed  biblio 
maniacs. 

Xor  should  the  name  of  John  Murray — the  friend  and 
publisher  of  Byron — be  omitted  in  this  place.  It  is  not  our 
province  to  remark  on  the  distinguished  eminence  of  this  gentle 
man  as  a  publisher,  although  in  this  respect  he  may  unques 
tionably  be  entitled  to  take  the  highest  rank ;  but  his  well- 


46  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


known  literary  abilities  and  severe  critical  taste,  equally 
render  him  conspicuous,  as  evinced  in  the  immense  collection 
of  valuable  works  which  have  issued  from  his  establishment. 
The  excellent  series  of  Hand- Socks,  are  in  part,  produc 
tions  of  his  son,  the  present  publisher  of  that  name. 

The  name  of  Talboys,  of  Oxford,  will  be  remembered  by  his 
admirable  translation  of  Adelung's  Historical  Sketch  of  San 
scrit  Literature,  to  which  he  appended  copious  bibliographical 
notices.  He  was,  moreover,  the  translator  of  the  very  erudite 
volumes  of  Professor  Heeren,  of  which  he  is  also  the  pub 
lisher  ;  his  Bibliotheca  Classica  and  Theclogica,  likewise  deserve 
honorable  mention  for  their  completeness  and  excellent  scien 
tific  arrangement. 

Hansard,  the  printer,  who  wrote  Typographia,  and  another 
similar  work,  and  who  has  been  also  a  contributor  to  the 
Encyclopedia  Britannica,  also  was  of  the  fraternity  ;  as  well  as 
West,  the  author  of  Fifty  Years'  Recollections  of  a  Bookseller. 
Goodhugh,  author  of  the  Library  Manual  •  Haas,  who  trans 
lated  Dr.  Krummacher's  Elisha,  and  Zschb'kke's  History  of 
Switzerland. 

John  Russell  Smith  has  rendered  himself  distinguished  by 
his  industry,  as  well  as  literary  taste.  His  work  on  the 
Bibliography  of  Kent,  Bibliotheca  Cantiana,  as  well  as  his  Bib 
liographical  List  of  all  Works  which  have  been  published  towards 
illustrating  the  Provincial  Dialects  of  England,  evince  both 
his  untiring  antiquarian  research  and  literary  zeal.  We  come 
next  to  a  name  that  has  become  almost  a  synonym  with 
antiquarian  anecdote — William  Hone,  the  sale  of  whose 
Every  Day  Book  and  Year  Book  (who  has  not  read  them?), 
during  the  first  year  of  their  publication,  produced  £500. 
He  was  originally  a  bookseller — his  collected  works  would 
probably  fill  ten  or  twelve  octavos.  His  political  satires 
had  a  prodigious  sale,  upwards  of  70,000  copies  being  dis 
posed  of  in  a  short  time.  His  infidel  publications  he 
lived  to  repudiate,  and  publicly  to  recant,  in  a  work 


BOOK-CRAFT.  47 


entitled  his  Early  Life  and  Conversion.  Henry  G.  Bohn 
deserves  to  be  classed  among  our  list  ;  bis  catalogue,  contain 
ing  a  critical  description  of  3C 0,000  volumes,  in  all  the  lan 
guages  dear  to  literature,  may  be  ranked  among  tbe  most 
remarkable  productions  of  the  press  of  any  nation.  It  con 
tains  2,106  pages,  and  cost  its  compiler  two  thousand  guineas 
and  an  almost  incredible  amount  of  labor.  The  Chambers, 
of  Edinburgh,  editors  of  the  able  and  valuable  works 
that  bear  their  name,  present  another  noble  instance  of 
genius  rising  superior  to  all  opposing  circumstances.  They 
were  originally,  as  intimated,  of  humble  origin — now  they  are 
among  the  largest  publishers  of  their  age.  Their  essays  are 
among  the  choicest  of  our  periodical  literature.  There  is 
still  another  name  we  cannot,  in  justice,  omit  to  notice  :  we 
allude  to  that  of  Timperley,  whose  Encyclopedia  of  Literary 
Anecdote  discovers  curious  labor  and  research.  Here,  then,  we 
ought  to  pause  in  our  enumeration  of  literary  booksellers  and 
printers  ;  although  the  catalogue  might  be  extended  to  a  much 
greater  length.  There  are  three  other  names,  however,  we 
must  not  omit,  in  conclusion. 

Charles  Knight,  the  well-known  editor  of  the  Pictorial 
Shakespeare,  of  London  Illustrated,  and  other  excellent 
works  ;  Thomas  Miller,  once  the  basket-maker,  since  poet, 
novelist,  and  essayist  ;  and  William  Howitt,  whose  volu 
minous  writings  are  too  well  known  to  require  recital — 
form  a  triple  coronal  in  bibliography  ;  and  the  lustre  they 
shed  upon  the  brotherhood  of  booksellers  to  which  they 
originally  belonged,  may  well  atone  for  the  obliquities, 
discrepancies,  and  obtuseness,  with  which  the  tongue  of 
scandal  has  sought  to  darken  the  fair  escutcheon  of  its 
fame. 

The  first  book  ever  printed  in  the  Xew  World  was  in  the 
city  of  Mexico.  It  was  printed  in  the  Spanish  language,  in 
the  year  1544,  and  was  entitled  Dodrina  Christiana  per  eo  los 


48  SALAD      FOK     THE      SOCIAL. 


Indos.  The  first  publications  made  in  English,  in  America, 
were  the  Freeman's  Oath,  an  Almanac  for  1639,  nearly  a  hun 
dred  years  after  the  work  published  in  Mexico.  In  1640  was 
published  the  first  book,  entitled  the  Bay  Psalm  Book.  It 
was  reprinted  in  England,  where  it  passed  through  no  less  than 
eighteen  editions  ;  the  last  being  issued  in  1154.  It  was  no 
less  popular  in  Scotland,  twenty-two  editions  of  it  having  been 
published  there.  Altogether,  it  is  estimated  it  reached  to 
seventy  editions  abroad. 

We  might  mention,  with  no  slight  honor,  the  name  of  John 
Foster,  a  man  of  great  literary  attainments,  a  graduate  at 
Harvard  University,  and,  himself  an  author.  At  a  later  date 
Matthew  Carey,  and  his  son  and  successor,  Henry  Carey,  both 
of  whom  have  recorded  their  names  in  the  literary  annals  of 
their  country,  not  to  omit  the  name  of  an  author-bookseller, 
Peter  Parley  (Goodrich),  whose  works  are  alike  appreciated 
in  both  hemispheres. 

Isaiah  Thomas  has  written  and  published  a  History  of  Print 
ing,  a  work  of  considerable  reputation  ;  Drake,  the  antiqua 
rian  bookseller  of  Boston,  besides  being  a  member  of  several 
learned  societies,  was  author  of  the  Book  of  the  Indians. 

The  first  Printing-press  set  up  in  America,  was  "  worked  " 
at  Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  in  1639. 

The  Rev.  Jesse  Glover  procured  this  press,  by  "  contributions 
of  friends  of  learning  and  religion,"  in  Amsterdam  and  in  Eng 
land,  but  died  on  his  passage  to  the  New  World. 

Stephen  Day  was  the  first  printer.  In  honor  of  his 
pioneer  position,  Government  gave  him  a  grant  of  three 
hundred  acres  of  land.  Among  other  of  his  early  publi 
cations  were  the  New  Testament,  and  Baxter's  Call,  trans 
lated  into  the  Indian  language,  by  Elliot,  the  great  Mis 
sionary,  and  printed  at  great  cost.  The  title  might  be 
recommended,  on  account  of  its  obscurity  and  high-sounding 
character,  to  some  of  the  writers  of  books  now-a-days.  It 


BOOK-CRAFT.  49 


was  Wusku-Wuttesthementum  Yul-Lordumun  Jesus  Christ 
Nuppoqhwussuaenenmun.  * 

The  whole  Bible  was  printed  in  this  language  in  1663.  The 
nation  once  speaking  it  is  now  extinct. 

'Pennsylvania  was  the  second  State  to  encourage  printing. 
William  Bradford  went  to  Pennsylvania  with  William  Penn, 
in  1682,  and  in  1686  established  a  printing-press  in  Philadel 
phia  ;  its  first  issue  was  an  Almanac  for  1687  ;  it  was  but  a 
sheet.  The  first  book  printed  by  Bradford  was  a  collection  of 
essays  by  Francis  Bacon.  It  appeared  in  1688,  and  was 
called  The  Temple  of  Wisdom. 

In  1692,  Bradford  was  induced  to  establish  a  printing-press 
in  New  York.  He  received  £40  per  annum,  and  "  the  privilege 
of  printing  on  his  own  account."  Previous  to  this  time,  there 
had  been  uo  printing  done  in  the  Province  of  Xew  York.  His 
first  issue  in  Is  ew  York,  was  a  proclamation,  bearing  date  of  1692. 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  century,  Boston 
contained  about  forty  printers  and  publishers.  The  first  fruits 
of  the  press  were  devoted  to  the  rights  of  religion  and  liberty 
— fitting  tribute  of  the  pioneer  pilgrims  of  a  great  nation  for 
the  altar  of  Freedom.  The  bookselling  business  of  Boston, 
half  a  century  ago,  was  conducted  on  a  very  limited  scale  com 
pared  with  present  times.  The  senior  publishers  of  that  city 
are  Crocker  &  Brewster.  They  began  business  in  1811. 
Gould  &  Lincoln  are  next  in  the  order  of  date.  Ticknor, 
Francis,  Greene,  Little  &  Brown,  with  others,  form  the  succes 
sion.  It  is  believed  that  the  amount  invested  in  the  book 


*  One  long  word  suggests  another — the  title  of  a  pamphlet  (in  the  possession  of  the 
writer),  published  years  ago  in  London.  The  title  reads:  "  Chrononhotonlhologos, 
the  most  tragical  tragedy  that  ever  was  tragedized  by  any  company  of  tragedians." 
The  two  first  lines  of  this  effusion  read — 

"  Aldeborontiphoacophosnio ! 
Where  left  yon  ChrononhotoiuhologoB  !" 

Wo  might  name  another  singular  title  of  a  work  published  in  1661,  by  Robert  Lovell, 
entitled,  "  Pamoologicomineralogia ;  a  complete  history  of  animals  and  minerals, 
contains  the  summe  of  all  authors,  Galenical  and  Chymicall,  with  the  anatomie  of 
man,  &c." 


50  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


business  in  Boston  alone  at  the  present  day,  cannot  be  less 
than  three  millions  of  dollars.  Now  there  are  nearly  one  hun 
dred  booksellers,  and  over  fifty  distinct  publishers  in  the 
American  "  Athens." 

In  New  York  there  are  four  hundred  and  forty-four  book 
sellers  and  one  hundred  and  thirty-three  publishers,  and  in 
Pennsylvania,  four  hundred  and  two  of  the  first  and  seventy- 
two  of  the  last.  Most  of  the  publishing,  and  the  largest  num 
ber  of  the  booksellers,  centre  in  the  three  great  cities  of  Bos 
ton,  New  York,  and  Philadelphia,  which  are  the  leading  pub 
lishing  cities  of  the  country.  New  York  has  the  most  capital 
invested  in  the  business.* 

In  Great  Britain,  the  United  States,  France,  and  Germany, 
the  book  and  publishing  business  is  vast.  Great  Britain  gives 
to  the  world  more  than  two  thousand  five  hundred  new  books, 
or  editions,  annually ;  while  France  publishes  about  six 
thousand.  There  are  thirteen  hundred  books  published  in  the 
United  States  annually. 

Among  modern  bibliopoles  and  printers  of  Paris,  we 
must  name  Didot,  Plon,  Crapelet,  Bossange,  and  Bailliere, 
chiefly  known  for  his  valuable  medical  publications,  who  has 
also  a  house  in  New  York.  The  number  of  booksellers  reachee 
nearly  to  four  hundred  ;  their  business  is  divided  into  the  clas 
sical  book-trade,  the  old  book-trade,  the  new  publications,  and 
the  commission  trade.  Many  journals  also  enter  into  the 
trade  :  the  Revue  dts  Deux  Mondes  publishes  the  works  of 
several  eminent  authors. 

*  Stanford  and  Swords  is  the  oldest  existing  publishing-house  of  New  Yorlc.  Harper 
&  Brothers  (numerically  the  largest  publishers,  from  whose  establishment  the  best  eci- 
tiong  of  the  Classics  have  emanated);  Apple'ons;  Putnam  (pub'isher  of  Washington 
Irvlng's  works) ;  Barnes  &  Co.  ;  Scribner ;  KedfielJ  ;  Ivison  &  Phinney  ;  Derby  ;  De  Witt 
&  Davenport;  Carters;  Collins,  Woods,  Wiley,  Sheldon,  Lamport  &  Co.,  are  the  pub 
lishers  of  New  York.  In  addition,  there  are  several  large  establishments  connected 
with  religious  societies,  including  the  Methodist  Book  Concern.  The  booksellers  and, 
publishers  of  Cincinnati,  Buffalo,  Auburn,  and  other  cities  of  the  West,  are  rapidly 
competing  with  their  brothers  of  the  Atlantic  cities  in  the  magnitude  of  their  opera 
tions.  In  Philadelphia,  the  more  prominent  publishers  are,  Lindsay  &  Blakiston, 
Blanchard  &  Lea,  Lippincott  A  Co.,  E.  H.  Butler,  Cowperthwait*  &  Co. 


BOOK-CRAFT.  51 


X)n  the  quays,  on  the  Boulevards,  near  the  Louvre,  and  in  a 
few  retired  streets,  there  are  more  than  two  hundred  second 
hand  booksellers. 

In  earlier  times,  Francis  de  Bure,  a  bookseller  of  Paris, 
wrote,  among  others,  a  work  of  great  research  and  skill,  A 
Treatise  on  Scarce  and  Curious  Books,  in  seven  large  volumes. 
The  originator  of  the  great  work,  Encyclopedic  Mcthodique, 
which  has  extended  to  above  150  volumes,  was  M.  Panckoucke, 
a  Parisian  bookseller.  Peter  Yander,  of  Leyden,  who  died 
1730,  was  another  eminent  instance  of  an  author-bookseller, 
as  his  singular  work,  Galerie  du  Monde,  in  66  folios,  sufficiently 
attests  ;  and  Lascaile,  of  Holland,  was  no  less  celebrated  as 
poet  and  publisher,  having  been  honored  with  the  poetic  crown 
by  the  Emperor  Leopold  ;  and  even  his  daughter  so  largely 
inherited  her  father's  genius,  that  she  was  styled  the  Dutch 
Sappho,  or  tenth  muse. 

The  renowned  publisher,  Tauchnitz,  of  Leipsic,  achieves  a 
greet  work  for  the  diffusion  of  literature  over  continental 
Europe.  His  popular  series  of  British  Classics  alone  includes 
over  300  volumes,  of  which  he  annually  sells  about  150,000 
copies.  His  will  doubtless  become  the  greatest  publishing 
establishment  in  the  world,  if  it  progresses  as  it  has  since  1840, 
as  it  is  now  the  largest  on  the  continent  of  Europe. 

In  the  sixteenth  century,  Trithemius  died  in  Germany,  after 
having,  from  time  to  time,  assembled  the  literary  world  to 
behold  the  wonder  of  that  age— a  library  of  two  thousand 
volumes.  And  yet,  incredible  as  it  may  seem,  nearly  forty 
years  ago  the  estimate  was  made,  that  since  the  invention  of 
printing,  there  had  been  issued  from  the  press  of  Germany 
three  billions  of  volumes. 

Next  to  the  desire  to  know  something  about  the  personnel  of 
an  author,  is  the  interest  with  which  the  public  regard  that 
intermediate  personage  between  him  and  themselves,  yclept  the 
publisher.  In  a  subordinate  sense,  he  may  justly  be  considered 
a  member  of  the  literary  profession,  for  he  enacts  the  part  of 


52  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


agent  for  the  author  and  his  readers  ;  and  if  not  an  indispen 
sable,  he  is  at  least  a  most  important  auxiliary  in  these  rela 
tions.  Publishers  have,  however,  not  unfrequently  been  char 
acterized  as  selfish  ia  their  pursuits,  and  alike  injurious  to  the 
interest  of  the  author,  and  the  commonwealth  of  literature. 
This  aspersion  upon  their  fair  fame  is  at  length  fast  pass 
ing  away,  if  indeed  it  has  not  already  disappeared.  Their 
position  in  society,  as  the  purveyors  of  its  literary  aliment,  is 
at  length  appreciated.  In  former  times,  many  a  poor,  unof 
fending  publisher  paid  the  penalty  due  to  the  sins  and  misde 
meanors  of  a  seditious  or  erratic  scribe  ;  having  been  held 
responsible  for  sentiments  never  avowed,  and  of  which,  in  some 
cases  they  were  unconscious,  since  they  were  incapable  of  their 
comprehension.  In  the  majority  of  instances  the  bookselling  fra 
ternity  are  a  plain,  plodding  set  of  men,  whose  movements  are 
for  the  most  part  regulated  by  the  laws  of  that  universal  pecu 
niary  arithmetic — profit  and  loss.  They  deal  in  books  very 
much  after  the  same  manner  as  do  the  purveyors  of  meat  and 
bread,  estimating  their  merchandise  by  the  size,  if  not  the 
weight  avoirdupois.  The  history  of  "  book-craft,"  which  yet 
remains  to  be  written,  would  form  a  book  of  "  Chronicles,"  if 
less  important,  scarcely  less  interesting  than  those  of  Frois- 
sart  ;  it  would  abound  with  strange  anomalies,  and  curious 
portraitures.  In  early  times,  the  monks — the  custodes  of  the 
learning  of  their  day — combined  witliin  themselves  both  author 
and  publisher  ;  if  indeed  the  latter  term  may  be  allowed  in 
this  case.  They  were  styled  the  Commerdum  Librorum,  their 
office  comprehending  that  of  the  scribe,  as  well  as  the  dealer 
in  manuscripts.  Between  the  years  1474  and  1GOO,  it  has 
been  estimated  about  350  printers  flourished  in  England  and 
Scotland,  and  that  the  products  of  their  several  presses 
amounted  in  the  aggregate  to  10,000  distinct  productions.* 

*  D'Israeli,  in  his  Curiosities  of  Literature,  states,  that  the  four  ages  of  typography 
have  produced  110  less  than  3,641 ,9tiO  works  !     Taking  each  work  at  three  volumes,  and 


BOOK-CRAFT.  53 


"  The  titles  of  books,"  writes  the  author  of  the  Tin  Trumpet, 
"  are  decoys  to  cntch  purchasers."  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  a  happy  name  to  a  book  is  like  an  agreeable  appearance 
to  a  man  ;  but  if  in  either  case  the  final  do  not  answer  to  the 
first  impression,  will  not  our  disappointment  add  to  the  severity 
of  our  judgment  ?  "  Let  me  succeed  with  my  first  impression," 
the  bibliopolist  will  cry,  "and  I  ask  no  more."  The  public  are 
welcome  to  end  with  condemning,  if  they  will  only  begin  with 
buying.  Most  readers,  like  the  tuft-hunters  at  college,  are 
caught  by  titles.  How  inconsistent  are  our  notions  of  moral 
ity  !  Xo  man  of  honor  would  open  a  letter  that  was  not  ad 
dressed  to  him,  though  he  will  not  scruple  to  open  a  book 
under  the  saiue  circumstances.  Colton's  Lacon  has  gone 
through  many  editions,  and  yet  it  is  addressed  "  To  those 
who  think."  Had  the  author  substituted  for  these  words, 
"Those  who  think  they  are  thinking,'1  it  might  not  have  had  so 
extensive  a  sale,  although  it  would  have  been  directed  to  a 
much  larger  class.  He  has  shown  address  in  his  address. 

Scott  is  known  to  have  profited  much  by  Constable's  biblio 
graphical  knowledge,  which  was  very  extensive.  The  latter 
christened  Kenihcorth,  which  Scott  named  Cumnor  Hall.  John 
Ballantyne  objected  to  the  former  title,  and  told  Constable  the 
result  would  be  "  something  worthy  of  the  kennel  ;"  but  the 
result  proved  the  reverse.  Mr.  Cadell  relates  that  Constable's 
vanity  boiled  over  so  much  at  this  time,  on  having  his  sugges 
tions  adopted,  that,  in  his  high  moods,  he  used  to  stalk  up 
and  down  his  room,  and  exclaim,  "  By  Jove,  I  am  all  but  the 
author  of  the  Waverley  Xovels  !" 

But  for  booksellers,  intellect  would  die  of  famine.  London 
is  the  great  Sanhedrim  of  the  authorcraft  of  the  world.  Lon 
don  is  the  very  brain  of  Britain,  the  centre  of  its  literature, 
the  seat  of  its  intelligence.  There  the  great  emporium  of 

reckoning  each  impression  to  consist  of  only  300  copies  (a  very  moderate  supposition), 
the  actual  amount  of  volumes  which  have  issued  from  the  presses  of  Europe,  down  to 
the  year  1810,  appears  to  be  3,27T,G40,000  ! 


54  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL 


book-craft  is  time-honored — it  is  an  ancient  and  worthy  order. 
Paternoster  Row  is  full  of  the  odor  and  spirit  of  learning — it 
has  an  aroma  of  paper  and  print.  There  is  no  spot  on  the 
globe  like  it.  The  London  book-trade  is  divided  into  the  fol 
lowing  branches — the  general  retail  bookseller,  the  dealer  in 
black-letter,  or  second-hand  books,  the  wholesale  merchant, 
who  executes  country  and  foreign  orders,  and  the  publishing, 
or  manufacturing  bookseller.  The  second  class  formerly  did 
chiefly  congregate  in  Little  Britain — now  they  are  scattered 
about  Holborn,  Covent  Garden,  and  the  Strand.  These  are 
depositories  of  those  choice  relics  of  the  olden  time,  that  often 
tempt  such  premiums  from  the  bibliomaniac. 

While  on  this  point,  we  cannot  refrain  from  a  recollection  or 
two  of  the  brotherhood.  One  was  named  Xunn  ;  he  kept  an 
old  book  establishment  in  Great  Queen  street,  and  although  a 
singularly  large  and  corpulent  personage,  was  scarcely  less 
remarkable  for  his  activity  in  early  life,  than  for  his  austerity 
and  moroseness  in  its  later  stages.  By  his  parsimony  and 
patient  application  to  business,  he  became  ultimately  possessed 
of  considerable  wealth  ;  and  although  this  was  no  secret,  yet 
his  two  daughters,  who  were  (if  one  may  hazard  gallantry  for 
truth)  remarkably  ugly,  lived  in  single  blessedness  to  the  very 
autumn  of  life  ;  but,  strange  to  add,  immediately  after  the 
demise  of  their  venerable  parent  at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty, 
they  each  entered  into  matrimonial  alliances.  Old  Xunn  pos 
sessed  many  peculiarities,  and  although  not  particularly  re 
markable  for  indulging  any  "  sudorous  brain-toils  "  of  his  own, 
he  yet  never  appeared  so  contented  as  when  immersed  among 
the  musty  tomes  of  those  who  have  left  us  in  no  condition  of 
doubt  as  to  that  matter.  We  well  remember,  his  curious 
custom  of  cramming  his  capacious  coat-pockets,  which,  on  one 
occasion,  actually  yielded  four-and-twenty  large  octavo  vol 
umes  before  their  contents  were  exhausted.  D'Arcy,  also  a 
dealer  in  second-hand  and  black-letter  books,  in  Holborn,  ren 
dered  himself  conspicuous,  among  other  eccentricities,  for  the 


BOOK-CRAFT.  55 


whim  of  haying  female  attendants  in  his  establishment,  some 
of  whom  were  decidedly  pretty  ;  and  what  is  not  less  singular, 
it  is  said,  he  regulated  their  remuneration  according  to  the  ratio 
of  their  personal  attractions.  He  died  wealthy,  like  his  eccen 
tric  contemporary  before  alluded  to. 

The  wholesale  trade  has  always  resided  in  and  near  Pater 
noster  Row,  but  the  chief  house  of  this  class  was  for  many 
years  on  London  Bridge.  Osborne  lived  under  the  gateway 
of  Gray's  Inn.  Tonson,  opposite  the  Strand  Bridge.  Millar, 
facing  St.  Clement's  Church,  Strand.  Dodsley,  on  the  site  of 
the  Shakespeare  Gallery,  in  Pall  Mall. 

Publishers  are  said  to  keep  the  keys  of  the  Temple  of  Fame. 
They  minister  at  the  altar  of  learning,  and  furnish  the 
intellectual  wealth  of  the  world.  Dr.  Johnson  consid 
ered  booksellers  the  patrons  of  literature,  liberal,  generous- 
minded  men.  Another  quaintly  asks,  "  Can  a  bookseller  live, 
move,  and  have  his  being,  in  an  atmosphere  of  intellect,  and 
not  absorb  the  very  soul  and  spirit  of  his  books  through  his 
pores  ?"  An  experienced  bookseller  is  often  better  qualified 
to  judge  of  a  book,  than  all  the  critics  that  ever  praised  or 
blamed,  since  the  days  of  Diogenes.  Comparatively  few,  how 
ever,  of  the  publishing  fraternity  pretend  to  critical  censor 
ship  ;  they  usually  defer  to  the  critical  judgment  of  some  liter 
ary  friend,  in  determining  the  claims  of  any  work  for  publica 
tion. 

Booksellers,  moreover,  evince  an  affinity  of  feeling  in  more 
instances  than  one,  with  the  "genus  irritabile."  We  remember 
an  incident,  among  others,  to  this  effect.  Goldsmith,  who  was 
originally  poor  and  unknown,  after  the  publication  of  the  Trav 
eller  became  of  much  greater  consequence  ;  and  one  day,  on 
learning  that  a  scandalous  attack  had  appeared  against  him  in 
a  paper  published  by  Evans,  he  called  at  the  shop  of  the 
offending  bibliopolist,  and  announcing  his  errand,  proceeded  to 
administer  summary  chastisement.  The  pugilistic  encounter, 
however,  proved  ultimately  to  the  overwhelming  disadvantage 


56  SAL  AD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


of  the  worthy  Vicar,  who  got  well  beaten  himself  and  rolled 
upon  the  floor,  to  the  amusement  of  the  real  offender,  the 
author  of  the  offensive  article,  who  complaisantly  stood  by  as 
bottle-holder  on  the  occasion. 

As  somewhat  gerraan  to  our  chapter,  we  shall  add  a  few 
supplemental  words  about  printing  and  book-binding. 

In  the  United  States  the  Press  is  represented  by  the  illustri 
ous  Franklin,  the  Bacon  of  the  New  World — a  trio,  juncta  in 
uno,  printer,  author,  and  one  of  the  great  fathers  of  modern 
science  ;  and  who  has  been  thus  technically  described  by  one  of 
the  fraternity,  "  the  *  of  his  profession,  the  type  of  honesty, 
the  1  of  all,  and  although  the  JKaT"  of  death  has  put  a  .  to  his 
existence,  every  §  of  his  life  is  without  a  ||." 

Types  kave  been  likened  to 

"  A  thousand  lamps  at  one  lone  altar  lighted, 
Turning  the  night  of  error  into  day.'' 

Type-setting  in  early  times  was  not  remarkable  for  its  exact 
ness  and  accuracy.  In  the  year  1561,  a  book  was  printed, 
called  the  Anatomy  of  the  Mass.  It  had  only  172  pages  in  it  ; 
but  the  author — a  pious  monk — was  obliged  to  add  fifteen 
pages  to  correct  the  blunders.  These  he  attributes  to  the 
special  instigation  of  the  "  devil,"  to  defeat  the  work  ;  and 
hence  may  have  come  the  use  of  the  title,  "  Printer's  Devil." 

A  printer's  wife  in  Germany  lost  her  life  by  feloniously  med 
dling  with  the  types.  She  went  into  the  office  by  night,  and 
took  out  the  word  "lord,"  in  Genesis  iii.  16,  where  Eve  is 
made  subject  to  her  husband,  and  made  the  verse  read,  "he 
shall  be  thy  fool,"  instead  of  "  he  shall  be  thy  lord."  It  is  said 
that  she  was  put  to  death  for  her  wickedness.  It  is  well 
known  that  printers  of  an  early  edition  of  the  Scriptures  were 
so  heavily  fined  as  to  be  utterly  ruined,  for  leaving  out  the 
word  "not"  from  one  of  the  Ten  Commandments.  There  is 
an  edition  of  the  Bible,  called  the  "  Vinegar  Bible,"  from  the 
parable  of  the  "  Vineyard"  being  printed  "  vinegar." 


BOOK-CRAFT.  57 


Other  equally  notorious  instances  of  errata  in  editions  of  the 
Vulgate,  which  provoked  the  anathemas  of  the  Vatican,  are 
on  record.  In  one  case  there  were  six  thousand  errors,  and 
after  a  revision,  nearly  as  many  more  were  detected  on  a  sub 
sequent  inspection.  It  is,  perhaps,  scarcely  possible  to  produce 
a  book  faultless,  but  the  art,  at  the  present  day  at  least,  ap 
proximates  very  closely  to  perfection,  some  of  the  more  costly 
publications  of  London  being  of  exquisite  typographic  beauty. 
Punctuation  is  as  important  to  the  sense  as  orthography.  This 
is  so  self-evident  that  we  need  not  cite  any  illustrations  in  proof. 

The  oldest  printing  establishment  in  Europe,  if  not  in  the 
world,  is  that  of  M.  Barth  of  Breslau,  still  extant,  which  we 
believe,  has  been  for  350  years  uninterruptedly  in  existence, 
in  the  hands  of  his  ancestors  and  himself.  The  first  book 
printed  there  was  a  German  legend,  in  1504. 

Bookmaking  must  be  classed  among  the  Fine  Arts,  for 
indeed  it  is  an  art  in  itself,  whether  we  consider  it  in  its  exte 
rior  or  interior  decoration.  The  English  excel  all  others  in 
the  tasty  arrangement  that  is  required  in  a  really  exquisite 
work.  They  understand  it  in  all  its  minutiae.  The  very  title- 
page  is  a  model  of  neatness  and  elegance  ;  and  of  such  import 
ance  is  the  superintendence  of  their  labors,  that  artists, 
"trained  men  in  their  vocation,"  are  employed  in  most  of  the 
large  establishments  to  attend  to  it  in  all  its  artistic  capabili 
ties.  Contrast  an  English  with  a  French  or  German  work  of 
equal  pretensions — how  quiet,  yet  how  genial  is  the  one  in  its 
superior  refinement  above  all  the  others.  Neither  ought  it  to 
be  forgotten  that,  while  speaking  about  books,  those  who 
administer  in  such  a  wonderful  degree  to  their  attractiveness, 
claim  some  notice  at  our  hands,  for  it  is  mainly  owing  to  the 
engraver  that  a  new  dawning  in  this  species  of  literary  luxury 
has  taken  place,  and  those  beautifully  illustrated  works  that 
are  ventured  upon  the  broad  waters  of  the  Atlantic  to  gratify 
the  fastidious,  giving  delight  to  numbers  by  their  kindly 
remembrances,  and  laden  affections,  are  the  result  of  those 

4* 


58  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL 


silent  workers.  Their  names,  famous  in  this  phase  of  decora 
tive  art  on  the  other  side  of  the  great  highway,  are  familiar 
as  "  household  words."  Yet  we,  too,  have  those  in  our  midst 
who  would  make  their  impress  in  any  nation.  Danforth,  Jones, 
Seely,  Burt,  and  John  Halpin,  in  historical  ;  Smilie  and 
Beckwirth,  in  landscape  ;  and  Fred.  Halpin,  in  portraiture, 
are  names  that  could  not  be  lightly  passed  over  anywhere  ; 
and  among  our  artists  on  wood,  Bobbett,  Childs,  Andrews, 
Lossiug,  and  others,  keep  up  in  a  corresponding  degree  the 
merits  of  their  particular  professions. 

Bookbinding  is  an  art  of  great  antiquity.  It  is  two  thousand 
years  and  more  since  Phillatius,  a  Greek,  divided  the  rolled 
volume  into  sheets,  and  glued  these  together  in  the  form  which 
is  familiar  to  us.  The  rolls  had  been  preserved  from  dust  and 
injury  by  being  kept  in  cylindrical  cases,  and  a  protection  for 
the  book  in  its  new  shape  was  soon  found  to  be  more  necessary 
than  before.  This  was  supplied  by  securing  the  leaves  between 
stiff  covers,  probably  of  wood  at  first,  and  thus  began  the  mod 
ern  art  of  bookbinding. 

Soon  the  board  was  covered  with  leather,  making  in  external 
appearance  a  still  nearer  approach  to  the  workmanship  of  our 
day  ;  but  it  was  not  until  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century,  or 
the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth,  that  the  stout  pasteboard,  called 
mill-board,  which  unites  lightness  with  sufficient  strength,  was 
used  as  the  foundation  of  the  book-cover. 

When  the  sheet  of  paper  of  which  a  book  is  made  is  folded 
in  two  leaves,  the  book  is  called  a  folio  ;  when  into  four  leaves, 
it  is  called  quarto  ;  when  folded  into  eight  leaves,  it  is  called 
octavo  ;  when  into  twelve  leaves,  duodecimo,  or  12mo.  ;  when 
folded  into  16  leaves,  16mo.  ;  and  when  into  eighteen  leaves, 
18mo.,  &c. 

The  ancient  Romans  ornamented  the  covers  of  their  books 
very  elaborately.  Those  of  wood  were  carved  ;  and  upon  some 
of  these,  scenes  from  plays,  and  events  of  public  interest,  were 
represented.  About  the  commencement  of  the  Christian  era, 


BOOK-CRAFT.  59 


leather  of  brilliant  hues,  decorated  with  gold  and  silver,  had 
come  into  use.  In  the  Middle  Ages  the  monks  exhausted  their 
ingenuity,  and  frequently,  it  would  seem,  their  purses,  in 
adorning  the  covers  of  those  manuscripts  which  they  spent  their 
lives  in  writing  and  illuminating.  Single  figures  and  groups, 
wrought  in  solid  gold,  solid  silver,  and  gold  gorgeous  with 
enamel,  precious  stones  and  pearls,  made  the  outside  of  the 
volume  correspond  to  the  splendor  within.  Less  expensive 
works  were  often  bound  in  oaken  boards  very  richly  carved  ; 
scenes  from  the  life  of  Christ,  the  Virgin,  or  the  Apostles,  fur 
nishing  the  subjects.  Many  still  exist  upon  which  the  Nativity, 
or  the  Crucifixion,  is  carved  in  high  relief. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and  the  beginning 
of  the  sixteenth,  kings,  princes,  and  wealthy  nobles,  expended 
much  money  upon  the  binding  of  their  libraries,  which  were,  in 
many  cases,  very  extensive.  Carved  ivory  covers,  protected  by 
golden  corners,  and  secured  by  jewelled  clasps,  were  common, 
as  were  also  those  of  velvet,  silk  brocade,  vellum,  and  morocco, 
elaborately  ornamented  after  designs  made  by  great  artists,  and 
protected  with  bosses,  corners,  and  clasps  of  solid  gold.  The 
precious  stones  and  metals  upon  these  book-covers,  cost  us  the 
loss  of  many  a  more  precious  volume,  for  they  frequently  formed 
no  inconsiderable  part  of  the  plunder  of  a  wealthy  mansion  in 
a  captured  city.  Mr.  Dibdin  tells  us  of  one  library  of  thirty 
thousand  volumes — that  of  Corvinus,  King  of  Hungary — which 
was  destroyed  on  this  account  by  the  Turkish  soldiers,  when 
Buda  was  taken  in  1526. 

Quite  an  era  in  the  history  of  bookbinding  in  England  was 
formed  by  the  publication  of  the  Great  Bible,  by  Grafton,  in 
1539.  His  first  edition  was  of  200  copies,  and  within  three 
years  there  were  seven  editions.  A  substantial  binding  was 
thus  needed  for  nearly  twenty  thousand  volumes,  and  from  this 
time  there  was  a  noticeable  advance  in  the  art  in  England  ; 
chiefly,  however,  in  the  mechanical  department  ;  for  Henry 
VIII.  had  many  books  richly  and  beautifully  bound,  In  his 


60  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


reign  the  use  of  gold  tooling  was  introduced,  and  the  designs 
for  some  of  the  rolls  are  attributed  to  Holbein.  Queen  Eliza 
beth  herself  embroidered  velvet  and  silk  book-covers,  some  of 
which  were  also  tooled  in  gilt.* 

The  art  has  been  carried  to  a  high  degree  of  excellence  and 
finish  in  France.  Many  have  acquired  great  renown  there,  in 
this  department  of  handicraft.  They  hold  themselves  far  above 
their  brethren  of  England  ;  and  Duru  once  said  that  he  should 
consider  himself  insulted  if  he  were  told  that  he  could  bind  as 
well  as  Hayday.  Their  prices  were  enormous— three  times  as 
great  as  those  of  the  best  London  binders,  large  as  those  were. 
The  French  books  are  remarkable  for  the  firmness  of  their 
boards,  the  smoothness  of  their  leather,  and  the  delicacy,  the 
richness  of  design,  and  the  sharpness  of  outline  of  their  gold 
tooling.  The  designs  upon  one  of  Beauzonnet's  Cape's,  or 
Lortic's  books,  seem  hardly  to  be  stamped  upon  the  leather, 
but  rather  to  be  inlaid  in  it.  But  for  pleasure  and  convenience 
in  use,  the  work  of  the  French  binders  is  inferior  to  that  of  the 
English.  Books  bound  by  the  former  are  very  stiff  ;  that  is, 
they  open  with  great  difficulty,  and  require  constant  pressure 
to  keep  them  open.f 

The  father  of  the  English  school  of  binders  was  Roger 
Payne,  who  lived'  towards  the  close  of  the  last  century.  The 
great  modern  English  binders  are  Hayday,  Clarke,  ^Bedford, 
Riviere,  and  Wright.  The  Remnants  have  a  very  large  esta 
blishment,  and  bind  richly  and  substantially.  The  work  of 
Charles  Lewis  was  highly  prized,  and  merited  its  reputation. 

The  fitness  of  the  binding  to  the  character  of  the  volume 
which  it  protects,  though  little  regarded  by  many  binders,  and 

*  Illustrated  Record  of  Art. 

t  It  may  be  well  to  say  here,  for  the  benefitof  those  not  familiar  with  the  book 
binder's  vocabulary,  that  gilt  tooling  is  what  is  commonly  called  gilding,  the  figures  in 
gilt  being  produced  by  the  impression  of  a  hot  tool,  sometimes  stamped,  sometimes 
rolled,  upon  gold  leaf.  Blind  tooling  is  produced  by  the  use  of  the  hot  tool  without  gold 
leaf.  The  forwarding  of  a  book  is  the  sewing  and  putting  it  into  the  cover.  Finishing 
is  the  tooling,  gilding,  &c. 


BOOK -CRAFT. 


61 


still  less  by  those  for  whom  they  work,  is  of  the  first  import 
ance.  Many  a  good  book  is  mercilessly  sacrificed  by  an  incom 
petent  binder  ;  persons  of  fastidious  taste  will  prefer  the  servi 
ces  of  one  who  is  possessed  of  artistic  taste  and  feeling. 

Here,  then,  we  finish  with  the  binder,  as  he  finishes  his  book, 
and  here  also  we  reluctantly  conclude  our  chapter  upon  Book- 
craft — a  theme  of  exhaustless  interest  to  all  who  have  any 
affinity  of  taste  for  books  and  the  intellectual  sweets  they  con 
tain — since  our  too  lavish  indulgence  in  such  refined  epicurism 
might  challenge  our  mental  digestion  too  severely.  We  there 
fore  offer  a  change  by  way  of  dessert. 


' 


THE    MODERN    MOLOCH. 

'  God  of  the  woi-Kl  and  worldlings, 
Great  Mammon  !  greatest  god  below  the  sky." 


SPEKSEB. 


"What  is  here? 

Gold  !  gold,  yellow,  glittering,  precious  gold, 
Saint-seducing  gold?"  SHAKSPEARE. 

THE  question  proposed  by  little  Paul,  in  Domley  and  Son, 
is  suggested  by  the  caption  of  our  chapter — "  What's  money  ?" 
The  reply  of  many  would  doubtless  be  the  same  as  that  returned 


THE      MODERN      MOLOCH.  63 


to  the  young  querist  referred  to — a  mere  mercantile  one — 
namely,  that  it  is  currency,  specie,  and  bank-notes,  or  gold, 
silver,  and  copper.  But  this  did  not  suffice  for  little  Paul  ;  he 
repeated  his  inquiry — "  I  mean,  what's  money  after  all  ?" 
This  is  the  question  we  propose  to  discuss  in  an  illustrative 
way.  First  as  to  its  material.  Gold  and  silver,  styled  the 
precious  metals — are  both  pure,  ductile,  and  malleable,  and 
unaffected  by  most  conditions  of  atmosphere.  They  are  of 
intrinsic  and  positive  worth,  and  were  therefore  adopted  as 
the  standards  of  value,  to  represent  all  commercial  exchanges. 

The  Numismatic  Journal  states,  in  reference  to  the  attempt 
to  establish  the  true  origin  of  coins,  that  according  to  the 
Parian  Chronicle,  a  record  of  the  third  century  before  Christ, 
Phiedon,  king  of  Argos,  iu  order  to  facilitate  commerce, 
stamped  silver  money  in  the  island  of  -<Egina,  in  the  year  before 
Christ,  895.  Now  as  Homer  existed  immediately  prior  to  this 
epoch,  and  makes  no  mention  of  coined  money,  whilst  he  does 
mention  the  system  of  barter,  we  may  infer  that  it  was 
unknown  in  his  time  ;  for  it  is  impossible  to  imagine  a  writer, 
by  whom  no  art  or  science  has  been  overlooked,  to  have  passed 
over  so  useful  an  invention  as  stamped  coin,  had  it  existed.  In 
the  time  of  Lycurgus,  which  followed  that  of  Homer — certainly 
not  later  than  a  century,  though  there  is  some  difficulty  in 
ascertaining  a  more  positive  data,  it  is  equally  certain  that  gold 
and  silver  coin,  as  money,  existed  in  Greece,  as  proved  by  his 
law  prohibiting  their  use  in  Sparta,  and  substituting  iron  :  prob 
ably  rings,  similar  to  the  iron  ring  money  of  the  early  Celtic 
nations,  of  which  specimens  have  been  discovered  in  Ireland. 
This  brings  the  introduction  of  coins  between  the  epochs  of 
Homer  and  Lycurgus,  in  fact  to  the  precise  period  assigned  to 
the  invention  of  Phiedon  ;  and  the  coins  of  JEgina,  from  the 
rudeness  of  their  devices,  and  imperfection  of  their  execution, 
may  fairly  be  supposed  to  be  of  the  age  in  question.  This, 
compared  with  the  assertion  of  the  Parian  Chronicle,  the 
silence  of  Homer,  and  the  law  of  Lycurgus,  seems  fairly  to 


64  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


authenticate  the  claim  of  Phiedon,  and  to  establish  the  origin 
of  the  first  current  money  as  having  occurred  nearly  nine  hundred 
years  before  th<>,  Christian  era,  in  the  island  of  JEgina. 

Numa  Pompilius  caused  money  to  be  made  of  wood  and 
leather — hence  the  Latin  word,  Pecunia :  afterwards  bits  of 
copper,  marked  according  to  weight,  were  stamped  with  figures 
or  images.  Money,  as  to  its  name,  is  derived  from  Juno 
Monet.a,  the  Roman  Temple  where  it  was  coined  200,  B.  C. 

The  most  ancient  Jewish  coins  represented  a  pot  of  manna- 
on  one  side,  and  Aaron' 's  blossoming  rod  ou  the  other  ;  the  in 
scription  being  in  Samaritan. 

Jewish  shekels  were  Is.  Id.  ;  a  talent  was  8,000  shekels,  or 
£342  3s.  9tZ.  sterling. 

The  Egyptians  did  not  coin  till  the  accession  of  the  Ptole 
mies,  nor  the  Jews  till  the  age  of  the  Maccabees  ;  the  most 
ancient  known  coins  are  the  Macedonian,  of  the  date  of  about 
500  years  before  Christ. 

Athelstan  first  established  a  uniform  coin  in  England.  The 
Egbert  silver  coins  were  shillings,  thrimsas,  pennies,  halflings, 
and  feorthlings.  Gold  coin  was  introduced  by  Edward  III.,  in 
six-shilling  pieces,  nearly  equal  in  size,  but  not  in  weight,  to 
modern  sovereigns.  Nobles  followed  at  65.  $>d.,  and  became 
the  lawyers'  fee.  Edward  IV.  coined  angels,  with  a  figure  of 
Michael  and  the  Dragon. 

Money  had  its  equivalent  in  salt  in  Abyssinia — a  small  shell 
called  cowcry,  in  Hindostan — dried  fish  in  Iceland — and 
wampum  among  the  North  American  Indians.*  Xails  were 

*  The  first  money  in  use  in  New  York,  then  New  Netherlands,  and  also  in  New  Eng 
land,  was  Sedicant,  Wampum,  or  Peague,  for  it  was  known  by  all  those  names. 
Sf'ticant  was  the  generic  name  of  this  Indian  money,  of  which  there  were  two  kinds  ; 
wompam  (commonly  called  wampum),  which  signifies,  white,  and  suckanhock,  sucki 
signifying  bl<ick.  Wampum,  or  warnpum-peague,  or  simply  peague,  was  also  under 
stood,  although  improperly,  among  the  Dutch  and  English,  as  expressive  of  gi-neric 
denomination,  and  in  that  light  was  used  by  them  in  their  writings  and  public  docu 
ments.  Wampum,  or  white  money,  was  originally  made  from  the  stem  or  stock  of  the 
metean-hock,  or  periwinkle ;  mickanhock,  or  black  money,  was  manufactured  from 
the  inside  of  the  shell  of  the  quahaug  (Venus  Mercenaria),  commonly  called  the  hard 


THE      MODERN      MOLOCH.  65 


formerly  in  use  in  Scotland,  as  we  learn  from  Smith's  Wealth  oj 
Nations. 

The  three  principal  mints  in  the  world  are  those  of  London, 
of  the  United  States,  and  of  Paris.  Their  total  coinage  during 
1853,  according  to  the  London  Economist,  was  as  follows,  in 
pounds  sterling  :  Paris,  £14,901,702  ;  London,  £12,666,008  ; 
United  States,  £11,101,120.  The  total  amount  of  this  in  dollars 
is  8193,644,150.* 

To  lack  money,  it  has  been  remarked,  is  to  lack  a  passport  or 
admission  ticket  into  the  pleasant  places  of  God's  earth — to 
much  that  is  glorious  and  wonderful  in  nature,  and  nearly  all 
that  is  rare,  curious,  and  enchanting  in  art. 

Hood's  lines  suggest  a  little  moralizing  : 

"  Gold  !  gold  !  gold  !  gold  ! 
Bright  and  yellow,  hard  and  cold, 
Molten,  graven,  hammered,  rolled  ; 
Heavy  to  get,  and  light  to  hold  ; 
Hoarded,  bartered,  bought  and  sold  ; 
Stolen,  borrowed,  squandered,  doled  ; 
Spurned  by  the  young,  but  hugged  by  the  old, 
To  the  very  verge  of  the  church-yard  mould  ; 
Price  of  many  a  crime  untold  ; 
Gold!  gold!  gold!  gold!" 

What  has  not  man  sacrificed  upon  the  altar  of  Moloch  ?  his 
time,  his  health,  his  friendships,  his  reputation,  his  conscience, 

clam,  a  round  thick  shellfish  that  buries  itself  a  little  way  in  the  sand  in  salt  water_. 
The  Indians  broke  off  about  half  an  inch  of  the  purple  color  of  the  inside,  and  converted 
it  into  beads.  These,  before  the  introduction  of  awls  and  thread,  were  bored  with  sharp 
stones,  and  strung  upon  the  sinews  of  animals,  and  when  interwoven  to  the  breadth  of 
the  hand,  more  or  less,  were  called  a  belt  of  seawant,  or  wampum. — Den  ton's  New  York. 
*  Mr.  Jacob  has  estimated  the  existing  gold  of  the  world,  previously  to  1343  (four- 
fifths  of  it  existing  in  manufactured  articles)  at  £050,000,000.  Add  our  new  acquisi 
tion  of  £35,000,000,  and  we  have  a  present  world-wealth  cT  gold  of  £705,000,000.  T;iHng 
tin-  i.'iibic  yard  of  gold  at  £-2,000,000,  which  it  is  in  round  numbers,  all  the  goldof  the 
world  at  this  estimate  might,  if  melted  into  ingots,  be  contained  in  a  cellar  twenty-four 
feet  square,  and  sixteen  feet  high.  All  our  boasted  wealth  already  obtained  from 
California  and  Australia  would  go  into  an  iron  safe,  nine  feet  square,  and  nine  feet 
high.  So  small  is  the  cube  of  yellow  metal  that  has  set  populations  on  the  march,  and 
roused  the  world  to  wonder ! 


66  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


and  even  life  itself,  and  all  its  great  issues.  Rightly  used, 
money  is  the  procurer  of  the  domestic  comforts  and  luxuries, 
as  well  as  the  necessaries  of  life,  but  when  inordinately  cher 
ished  and  coveted,  it  becomes  the  bane  of  happiness  and  peace. 
In  the  affair  of  marriage,  how  much  of  disaster  has  it  super 
induced — how  much  of  infelicity  entailed  upon  the  domestic 
relations.  Instead  of  surrendering  to  Gupid,  how  many  have 
been  led  captive  by  cupidity,  vainly  dreaming  of  hearts'-ease 
when  they  have  shown  their  preference  to  marry  gold.  But 
money  cannot  purchase  love,  or  virtue,  or  happiness.  A  phi 
losopher  has  said,  "  though  a  man  without  money  is  poor,  a 
man  with  nothing  but  money  is  still  poorer."  Fuller  wisely 
insists  that  it  is  much  better  to  have  your  gold  in  the  hand 
than  in  the  heart.  A  man's  character  is  often  indicated  by  his 
mode  of  using  money. 

A  vain  man's  motto  is,  '  win  gold  and  wear  it' — a  generous 
man's,  'win  gold  and  share  it' — a  miser's,  'win  gold  and 
spare  it' — a  profligate's,  '  win  gold  and  spend  it' — a  broker's, 
'win  gold  and  lend  it' — a  fool's,  'win  gold  and  end  it' — 
a  gambler's,  'win  gold  and  lose  it' — a  wise  man's,  'win  gold 
and  use  it.' 

Of  all  the  evil  propensities  to  which  human  nature  is  subject, 
there  is  no  one  so  general,  so  insinuating,  so  corruptive,  and  so 
obstinate,  as  the  love  of  money.  It  begins  to  operate  early, 
and  it  continues  to  the  end  of  life.  One  of  the  first  lessons 
which  children  learn,  and  one  which  old  men  never  forget,  is 
the  value  of  money.  The  covetous  seek-  and  guard  it  for  its 
own  sake,  and  the  prodigal  himself  must  first  be  avaricious, 
before  he  can  be  profuse.  This,  of  all  our  passions,  is  best  able 
to  fortify  itself  by  reason,  and  is  the  last  to  yield  to  the  force 
of  reason.  Philosophy  combats,  satire  exposes,  religion  con 
demns  it  in  vain  :  it  yields  neither  to  argument,  nor  ridicule, 
nor  conscience.* 

*  Hunter's  Biography. 


THE     MODERN     MOLOCH.  6*7 


'  I  riches  read, 


And  deeme  them  roote  of  all  disquietnesse  • 
First  got  with  guile,  and  then  preserved  with  dread  ; 

And  after  spent  with  pride  and  lavishnesse, 

Leaving  behind  them  grief  and  heavinesse. 
Infinite  mischicfes  of  them  doe  arize; 

Strife  and  debate,  bloodshed  and  bitternesse, 
Outrageous  wrong,  and  hellish  covetize, 
That  noble  hart  in  great  dishonour  doth  despize."  * 

This  love  of  money,  which  Holy  Scripture  tells  us  is  "  the 
root  of  all  evil,"  Jeremy  Taylor  describes  as  a  vertiginous  pool, 
sucking  all  into  its  vortex,  to  destroy  it.  That  this  love  of 
gold  is  the  master  passion  of  the  age,  few  will  question.  It  is 
"the  age  of  gold  ;"  the  auriferous  sands  of  the  Pacific  for  the 
western  hemisphere,  and  those  of  Australia  for  the  eastern,  are 
incessantly  pouring  out  their  treasures  to  feed  the  insatiate  cra 
vings  of  avarice.  The  liturgy  "  on  Change"  seems  to  read — 
Man's  chief  end  is  to  make  money,  and  to  enjoy  it  while  he  can. 
The  votaries  of  Mammon,  however,  do  not  enjoy  their  posses 
sions — they  have  no  leisure,  in  their  ceaseless,  toilsome  efforts, 
to  augment  their  fortunes.  A  contemporary  observes,  with 
great  justice  : 

"  Many  a  man  there  is,  clothed  in  respectability,  and  proud 
of  his  honor,  whose  central  idea  of  life  is  interest  and  ease — 
the  conception  that  other  men  are  merely  tools  to  be  used  as 
will  best  serve  him  ;  that  God  has  endowed  him  with  sinew 
and  brain  merely  to  scramble  and  to  get  ;  and  so,  in  the  midst 
of  this  grand  universe,  which  is  a  perpetual  circulation  of  bene 
fit,  he  lives  like  a  sponge  on  a  rock,  to  absorb,  and  bloat,  and 
die.  Thousands  in  the  great  city  are  living  so,  who  never  look 
out  of  the  narrow  circle  of  self-interest  ;  whose  decalogue  is 
their  arithmetic  ;  whose  Bible  is  their  ledger  ;  who  have  so 
contracted,  and  hardened,  and  stamped  their  natures,  that  iu 

*  Spenser. 


C8  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


any  spiritual  estimate  they  would  only  pass  as  so  many  bags 
of  dollars." 

It  is  indispensable,  in  some  cases,  that  men  should  have 
money,  for  without  ife  they  would  be  worth  nothing.  This, 
however,  offers  no  apology  for  the  universal  scramble  after 
money.  Is  this  money-mania  the  highest  development  of  our 
vaunted  civilization  ? — the  summum  lonum  of  human  existence  ? 
the  Ultima  Thule  of  human  effort  ? 

"  The  plague  of  gold  strikes  far  and  near. 

And  deep  and  strong  it  enters ; 
Tbe  purple  cyrnar  which  we  wear, 

Makes  madder  than  the  centaurs  ; 
Our  thoughts  grow  blank,  our  words  grow  strange, 

We  cheer  the  pale  gold-diggers, 
Each  soul  is  worth  so  much  on  'Change, 

And  marked,  like  sheep,  with  figures." 

"  Men  work  for  it,  fight  for  it,  beg  for  it,  steal  for  it,  starve 
for  it,  lie  for  it,  live  for  it,  and  die  for  it.  And  all  the  while, 
from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  Nature  and  God  are  ever  thun 
dering  in  our  ears  the  solemn  question — '  What  shall  it  profit 
a  man  to  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?'  This 
madness  for  money  is  the  strongest  and  the  lowest  of  the 
passions  ;  it  is  the  insatiate  Moloch  of  the.  human  heart,  before 
whose  remorseless  altar  all  the  finer  attributes  of  humanity  are 
sacrificed.  It  makes  merchandise  of  all  that  is  sacred  in  human 
affections  ;  and  even  traffics  in  the  awful  solemnities  of  the 
eternal  world." 

"  Gone,  the  spirit-quickening  leaven, 
Faith,  and  love,  and  hope  in  heaven — 
All  that  warmed  the  earth  of  old. 
Dead  and  cold, 

Its  pulses  flutter  ; 
Weak  and  old, 

Its  parched  lips  mutter, 


THE      MODERN      MOLOCH.  69 


Nothing  nobler,  nothing  higher 
Than  the  unappeased  desire, 

The  quenchless  thirst  for  gold  !'' 

Money  is  a  very  good  servant,  but  a  bad  master.  It  may  be 
accused  of  injustice  towards  mankind,  inasmuch  as  there  are 
only  a  few  who  make  false  money,  whereas  money  makes  many 
false  men. 

Mammon  is  the  largest  slaveholder  in  the  world — it  is  a 
composition  for  taking  stains  out  of  character — it  is  an  altar 
on  which  self  sacrifices  to  self. 

"  How  many  a  man,  from  love  of  pelf, 
To  stuff  his  coffers,  starves  himself ; 
Labors,  accumulates,  and  spares, 
To  lay  up  ruiu  for  his  heirs  ; 
Grudges  the  poor  their  scanty  dole, 
Saves  every  thing  except  his  soul  ; 
And  always  anxious,  always  vexed, 
Loses  both  this  world  and  the  next !'-' 

Shakspeare  defines  the  sordid  passion  as — 

"  Worse  poison  to  men's  souls, 
Doing  more  murders  in  this  loathsome  world 
Than  any  mortal  drug." 

In  the  words  of  Johnson,  it  is  the 

"  Wide  wasting  pest !   that  rages  unconfined, 
And  crowds  with  crimes  the  records  of  mankind  : 
For  gold,  his  sword  the  hireling  ruffian  draws, 
For  gold,  the  hireling  judge  distorts  the  laws  ; 
Wealth  heaped  on  wealth,  nor  truth  nor  safety  buys, 
The  dangers  gather  as  the  treasures  rise." 

"  A  miser,"  observes  Hazlitt,  "  is  the  true  alchemist,  the 
magician  in  his  cell,  who  overlooks  a  mighty  experiment,  who 


70  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL 


sees  dazzling  visions,  and  who  wields  the  will  of  others  at  his 
nod,  but  to  whom  all  other  hopes  and  pleasures  are  dead,  and 
who  is  cut  off  from  all  connection  with  his  kind.  He  lives  in  a 
splendid  hallucination,  a  waking  trance,  and  so  far  it  is  well  ; 
but  if  he  thinks  he  has  any  other  need  or  use  for  all  this  end 
less  store  (any  more  than  to  swell  the  ocean)  he  deceives  him 
self,  and  is  no  conjuror  after  all.  He  goes  on,  however, 
mechanically  adding  to  his  stock,  and  fancying  that  great 
riches  is  great  gain — that  every  particle  that  swells  the  heap  is 
something  in  reserve  against  the  evil  day,  and  a  defence  against 
that  poverty  which  he  dreads  more  the  further  he  is  removed 
from  it,  as  the  more  giddy  the  height  to  which  we  have 
attained,  the  more  frightful  does  the  gulf  yawn  below  —  so 
easily  does  habit  get  the  mastery  of  reason,  and  so  nearly  is 
passion  allied  to  madness."  This  is  the  turn  the  love  of  money 
takes  in  cautious,  dry,  recluse,  and  speculative  minds.  If  it 
were  the  pure  and  abstract  love  of  money,  it  could  lake  no 
other  turn  but  this. 

"  The  wretch  concentered  all  in  self, 
Living,  shall  forfeit  fair  renown, 
And,  doubly  dying,  shall  go  down 
To  the  vile  dust  from  whence  he  sprung, 
Unwept,  unhonored  and  unsung." 

"  A  miser  grows  rich  by  seeming  poor,"  says  Shenstone, 
"  an  extravagant  man  grows  poor  by  seeming  rich." 

Wealth  usually  ministers  to  the  baser  passions  of  our  nature 
— it  engenders  selfishness,  feeds  arrogance,  and  inspires  self- 
security,  and  deadens  and  stultifies  the  nobler  feelings  and 
holier  aspirations  of  the  heart.  Wealth  is  a  source  of  endless 
discontent  ;  it  creates  more  wants  than  it  supplies,  and 
keeps  its  incumbent  constantly  craving,  crafty,  and  covetous. 
Lord  Bacon  says,  "  I  cannot  call  riches  by  a  better  name  than 
the  '  baggage '  of  virtue  :  the  Roman  word  is  better — '  impedi- 


THE      MODERN      MOLOCH.  71 


ment.'  For  as  baggage  is  to  an  army,  so  are  riches  to  virtue. 
It  cannot  be  spared  or  left  behind,  and  yet  it  hindereth  the 
march."  "  Misery  assails  riches,  as  lightning  does  the  highest 
towers  :  or  as  a  tree  that  is  heavy  laden  with  fruit,  breaks  its 
own  boughs,  so  do  riches  destroy  the  virtue  of  their  possessor." 

Old  Burton  quaintly  but  forcibly  observes — "  Worldly 
wealth  is  the  devil's  bait  ;  and  those  whose  minds  feed  upon 
riches,  recede  in  general,  from  real  happiness,  in  proportion  as 
their  stores  increase  ;  as  the  moon,  when  she  is  fullest  of  light, 
is  furthest  from  the  sun." 

A  miser  is,  moreover,  the  most  oblivious,  as  well  as  the  most 
vindictive  of  mortals  ;  he  is  said  to  be  always  for-getting,  and 
never  for-giving.  He  lives  unloved,  and  dies  unlamented.  His 
self-denial  is  only  surpassed  by  his  denial  of  the  poor  and 
destitute.  The  miser  starves  himself  in  the  midst  of  plenty, 
that  he  may  feast  his  imagination  on  his  useless  hoards. 
Avarice,  unlike  most  other  passions,  becomes  more  exacting  as 
its  victim  increases  in  age.  Fielding  speaks  of  a  miser,  who 
consoled  himself  on  his  death-bed  "  by  making  a  crafty  and 
advantageous  bargain  concerning  his  funeral,  with  an  under 
taker  who  had  married  his  only  child."  There  have  been 
examples  of  misers  who  have  died  in  the  dark  to  save  the  cost 
of  a  candle.  How  debasing  the  passion  which  can  survive 
every  other  feeling,  sear  the  conscience,  and  deaden  the  moral 
sense!  "  Of  all  creatures  upon  earth  none  is  so  despicable  as  the 
miser.  He  meets  with  no  sympathy.  Even  the  nurse  who  is 
hired  to  attend  him  in  his  latest  hours,  loathes  the  ghastly 
occupation,  and  longs  for  the  moment  of  her  release,  for 
although  the  death-damp  is  already  gathering  on  his  brow,  the 
thoughts  of  the  departing  sinner  are  still  upon  his  gold  ;  and, 
at  the  mere  jingle  of  a  key,  he  starts  from  his  torpor  in  a 
paroxysm  of  terror,  lest  a  surreptitious  attempt  is  being  made 
upon  the  sanctity  of  his  strong  boxv  There  are  no  prayers  of 
the  orphan  or  widow  for  him — not  a  solitary  voice  has  ever 
breathed  his  name  to  heaven  as  a  benefactor.  One  poor  penny 


72  SALAD      FOR     THE     SOCIAL. 


given  away  in  the  spirit  of  true  charity  would  now  be  worth 
more  to  him  than  all  the  world  contains  ;  but  notwithstanding 
that  he  was  a  church-going  man,  and  from  his  infancy  familiar 
with  those  texts  in  which  the  worship  of  Mammon  is  denounced, 
and  the  punishment  of  Dives  told,  he  has  never  yet  been  able 
to  divorce  himself  from  his  solitary  love  of  lucre,  or  to  part  with 
one  atom  of  his  pelf.  And  so,  from  a  miserable  life — deserted, 
despised,  he  passes  into  a  dread  eternity  ;  and  those  whom  he 
has  neglected  or  misused,  make  merry  with  the  hoards  of  the 
miser  I"* 

"  The  aged  man  that  coffers  up  his  gold. 

Is  plagued  with  cramps,  and  gouts,  and  painful  fits, 

And  scarce  has  eyes  his  treasure  to  behold  ; 
But  like  still  pining  Tantalus  he  sits, 
And  useless  barns  the  harvest  of  his  wits  ; 

Having  no  other  pleasure  of  his  gain 

But  torment  that  it  cannot  cure  his  pain."f 

The  ingenious  author  of  the  Tin  Trumpet  remarks — that  a 
miser  is  one  who,  though  he  loves  himself  better  than  all  the 
world,  uses  himself  worse  :  for  he  lives  like  a  pauper  in  order 
that  he  may  enrich  his  heirs,  whom  he  naturally  hates,  because 
he  knows  they  hate  him. 

Perhaps  the  severest  reproach  ever  made  to  a  miser,  was 
uttered  by  Voltaire.  At  a  subscription  of  the  French  Academy 
for  some  charitable  object,  each  contributor  putting  in  a  louis 
d'or,  the  collector,  by  mistake,  made  a  second  application  to  a 
member  noted  for  his  penuriousness — "  I  have  already  paid," 
exclaimed  the  latter  with  some  asperity.  "  I  beg  your  pardon," 
said  the  applicant,  "  I  have  no  doubt  but  you  paid  ;  I  believe 
it  though  I  did  not  see  it."  "  And  I  saw  it,  and  do  not  believe 
it,"  whispered  Yoltaire. 

Misers  have  been  compared  to  many  strange  things  ;  some 

*  Blackwood.  t  Shafcspeare. 


THE      MODERN'      MOLOCH.  73 


liken  them  to  oysters  with  a  pearl  iu  the  shell  ;  others  style 
them  amateur  paupers. 

Again,  misers  have  beeu  supposed  to  resemble  the  hog  ;  a 
resemblance  between  them,  it  has  been  suggested,  has  long 
been  recognized  by  popular  tradition  ;  and  if  we  examine  the 
subject  closely,  we  shall  find  they  have  more  points  of  likeness 
than  we  should  at  first  suppose.  The  hog  is  omnivorous  and 
voracious — so  the  miser  grows  rich  by  gathering  and  convert 
ing  into  money  those  odds  and  ends  which  others  throw  away. 
The  hog  is  the  scavenger  of  nature  ;  the  miser  is  the  scavenger 
of  society.  Both,  also,  benefit  mankind  only  after  their 
death — the  fat  of  the  hog  and  the  wealth  of  the  miser,  which 
they  have  spent  their  lives  in  accumulating,  being  of  no  use 
during  their  existence. 

The  animating  principle  of  both  miser  and  hog  is,  of  course, 
selfishness.  Both  are  delvers  of  the  grovelling  sort,  both  are 
ill-tempered  and  sometimes  cruel.  It  is  noticed,  by  a  Swedish 
writer,  that  "  the  hog  does  not  enjoy  the  society  of  man,  as  the 
dog  does.  He  likes  going  about  by  himself,  grunting  in  an 
undertone,  which  he  prefers  to  raising  his  voice  to  its  highest 
pitch."  This  is  eminently  true  of  the  miser.  He  is  thoroughly 
unsocial  in  his  disposition,  burrows  by  himself,  and  mutters  to 
himself,  not  daring  to  raise  his  voice  in  manly  tones,  lost  it 
should  draw  attention  to  his  ill-gotten  gains. 

The  wretched  victim  of  avarice  is  ever  striving  to  amass 
wealth  by  every  expedient  that  will  not  subject  him  to  the  crimi 
nal  laws,  and  to  place  it  in  security,  is  the  great  and  ultimate 
object  of  his  pursuit.  Mammon  is  the  great  idol  he  worships, 
and  whatever  the  specious  and  plausible  pretexts  he  may 
assume,  he  pays  homage  at  no  other  shrine.  In  his  selfish 
isolation,  he  surrenders  himself  up  to  the  domination  of  his 
debasing  passion — a  voluntary  exile  from  the  endearing  offices 
of  friendship,  and  the  gentle  charities  of  domestic  and  social 
life.  The  benign  and  blessed  influence  of  heaven-born  Peace 
sheds  not  her  halcyon  rays  upon  his  dark  and  desolate  heart. 

4 


<  4  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 

A  victim  to  the  sordid  lust  of  gold,  his  mercenary  spirit  is  sus 
ceptible  of  no  generous  impulse  or  sentiment,  worthy  of  an 
immortal  being — every  thought  and  desire  being  absorbed  in 
his  insatiate  cravings  after  riches.  In  the  words  of  Dr.  Dick, 
who  presents  the  miser's  portrait  in  all  his  hideous  deformity, 
"all  the  avenues  to  true  enjoyment  are  interrupted,  and  closely 
shut  up  by  the  cold  hand  of  avarice.  He  denies  himself  those 
sensitive  comforts  with  which  Providence  has  so  richly  replen 
ished  the  earth,  and  has  placed  within  his  reach  ;  and  even 
almost  starves  himself  in  the  midst  of  plenty.  As  he  approaches 
the  close  of  his  career,  and  descends  to  the  grave,  whither  his 
coveted  wealth  cannot  follow  him,  his  passion  for  gold  acquires 
an  increased  intensity,  and  he  clings  to  his  useless  but  ardently 
cherished  treasures  with  a  fearfully  tenacious  grasp."  The 
prodigal  "  spends  his  substance  in  riotous  living,"  in  the  delu 
sive  attempt  to  secure  present  enjoyment  ;  and  the  distribution 
of  his  money  is  at  least  a  benefit  to  society  ;  but  the  covetous 
man  is  alike  injurious  to  himself  and  all  around  bin?  This 
passion  is  not  only  detestable  in  its  nature,  and  destructive  of 
every  virtue,  it  is  also  a  disease  like  that  of  intemperance,  that 
seldom,  if  ever,  admits  of  cure.  "  Other  passions  have  their 
holidays,"  says  an  old  writer,  "  but  avarice  never  suffers  its 
votaries  to  rest." 

O,  cursed  love  of  gold !  when  for  thy  sake 
The  fool  throws  up  his  interest  in  both  worlds — 

"Joshua,"  said  Ambrose,  "could  stop  the  course  of  the  sun, 
but  all  his  power  could  not  stop  the  course  of  avarice.  The 
sun  stood  still,  but  avarice  went  on  ;  Joshua  obtained  a  victory 
when  the  sun  stood  still  ;  but  when  avarice  was  at  work 
Joshua  was  defeated."  We  have  other  recorded  facts  in  sacred 
story  illustrative  of  the  crime  of  cupidity.  Achan's  covetous 
humor  made  him  steal  that  wedge  of  gold  which  served  "  to 
cleave  his  soul  from  God  :"  it  made  Judas  betray  Christ  ;  and 
Absalom  to  attempt  to  pluck  the  crown  from  his  father's  head. 


THE      MODERN       MOLOCH.  75 


To  a  reflecting  mind  it  may  well  cause  surprise  that  the  world 
at  large  set  such  paramount  value  upon  the  acquisition  of 
wealth.  To  what  voluntary  inflictions,  sufferings  and  life-toils, 
will  not  men  submit  for  its  attainment  ?  Vast  wealth  brings 
with  it  increase  of  cares,  and  with  multiplied  resources  we 
h'nd  usually  ever-growing  wants  to  be  supplied.  What  material 
difference  is  it  to  us,  provided  we  inhale  the  perfume  of  the 
fragrant  flowers,  whether  they  belong  to  our  neighbor  or  our- 
self :  or  whether  the  fair  estate  be  the  property  of  and  called 
after  the  name  of  another,  so  we  are  refreshed  with  the  vision  ? 
We  share  a  community  of  interest  in  this  respect,  in  all  the 
fair  and  beautiful  things  of  earth. 

"  For  nature's  care,  to  all  her  children  just, 
With  richer  treasures  aud  an  ampler  state 
Endows  at  large  whatever  happy  man  will  deign  to  use  them. 
His  the  city's  pomp,  the  rural  honors  his — 
Whatever  adorns  the  princely  dome,  the  column,  and  the  arch, 
The  breathing  marble,  and  the  sculptured  gold — 
Beyond  the  proud  possessor's  narrow  claim, 
His  tuneful  breast  enjoys." 

The  beautiful  soliloquy  of  Jeremy  Taylor  will  occur  to  the 
reader  ;  he  exclaims — 

"  I  am  fallen  into  the  hands  of  publicans  and  sequestrators 
and  they  have  taken  all  from  me.  What  now  ?  Let  me  look 
about  me.  They  have  left  the  sun  and  moon,  fire  and  water, 
a  loving  wife  aud  many  friends  to  pity  me,  and  some  to  relieve 
me  ;  and  I  can  discourse  ;  and,  unless  I  list,  they  have  not 
taken  away  my  merry  countenance  and  my  cheerful  spirits, 
and  a  good  conscience  ;  they  have  still  left  me  the  providence 
of  God,  and  all  the  promises  of  the  gospel,  and  my  religion, 
and  my  hope  of  heaven,  and  my  charity  for  them  too.  And 
still  I  sleep,  and  I  digest,  and  eat,  and  drink  ;  I  read  and 
meditate  ;  I  can  walk  in  my  neighbor's  pleasant  fields,  and 
see  the  varieties  of  natural  beauty,  and  delight  in  all  that  iu 


76  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


which  God  delights — that  is,   in  virtue  and   wisdom,  in  the 
whole  creation,  and  in  God  himself." 

"  0,  blissful  poverty ! 
Nature,  too  partial  to  tby  lot  assigns 
Health,  freedom,  innocence,  and  downy  peace."* 

Sand  has  written  a  beautiful  apostrophe  to  Poverty — "  the 
good  goddess  Poverty  :"  we  cite  a  sentence  or  two  : 

"  They  have  chained  the  good  goddess — they  have  beaten 
her  and  persecuted  her  ;  but,  they  cannot  debase  her.  She 
has  taken  refuge  in  the  souls  of  poets,  of  peasants,  of  artists,  of 
martyrs,  and  of  saints.  Many  children  has  she  had,  and  many 
a  divine  secret  has  she  taught  them.  She  does  all  the  greatest 
and  most  beautiful  things  that  are  done  in  the  world  ;  it  is 
she  who  cultivates  the  fields,  and  prunes  the  trees — who  drives 
the  herds  to  pasture,  singing  the  while  all  sweet  songs — who 
sees  the  day  break,  and  catches  the  sun's  first  smile.  It  is  she 
who  inspires  the  poet,  and  makes  eloquent  the  guitar,  the  violin 
and  the  flute  ;  who  instructs  the  dextrous  artisan,  and  teaches 
him  to  hew  stone,  to  carve  marble,  to  fashion  gold  and  silver, 
copper  and  iron.  It  is  she  who  supplies  oil  for  the  lamp,  who 
reaps  the  harvest  fields,  kneads  bread  for  us,  weaves  our  gar 
ments,  in  summer  and  winter,  and  who  maintains  and  feeds  the 
world.  It  is  she  who  nurses  us  in  infancy,  succors  us  in 
sorrow  and  sickness,  and  attends  us  to  the  silent  sleeping-place 
of  death.  Thou  art  all  gentleness,  all  patience,  all  strength 
and  all  compassion.  It  is  thou  who  dost  reunite  all  thy 
children  in  a  holy  love,  givest  them  charity,  faith,  hope,  0, 
goddess  of  Poverty  !" 

Every  man  is  rich  or  poor,  according  to  the  proportion 
between  his  desires  and  enjoyments.  Of  riches,  as  of  every, 
thing  else,  the  hope  is  more  than  the  enjoyment  ;  while  we 
consider  them  as  the  means  to  be  used  at  some  future  time  for 

*  Fen  ton. 


THE      MODERN       MOLOCH.  77 


the  attainment  of  felicity,  ardor  after  them  secures  us  from 
weariness  of  ourselves  ;  bnt  no  sooner  do  we  sit  down  to  enjoy 
our  acquisitions,  than  we  find  them  insufficient  to  fill  up  the 
vacuities  of  life.  We  are  poor  only  when  we  want  necessaries  ; 
it  is  custom  gives  the  name  of  poverty  to  the  want  of  superflui 
ties. 

Good  old  Izaak  Walton  has  something  to  say  on  this  subject, 
too  good  to  be  omitted.  Here  it  is  : — 

"  I  have  a  rich  neighbor  that  is  always  so  busy  that  he  has 
no  leisure  to  laugh  ;  the  whole  business  of  his  life  is  to  get 
money,  more  money  that  he  may  still  get  more.  He  is  still 
drudging,  saying  what  Solomon  says :  '  The  diligent  hand 
maketh  rich.'  And  it  is  true,  indeed  ;  but  he  considers  not 
that  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  riches  to  make  a  man  happy;  for 
it  was  wisely  said  by  a  man  of  great  observation,  '  that  there 
be  as  many  miseries  beyond  riches  as  on  this  side  of  them.' 
And  yet  heaven  deliver  us  from  pinching  poverty,  and  grant 
that,  having  a  competency,  we  may  be  content  and  thankful. 
Let  us  not  repine,  or  so  much  as  think  the  gifts  of  God 
unequally  dealt,  if  we  see  another  abound  in  riches,  when,  as 
God  knows,  the  cares  that  are  the  keys  that  keep  those  riches, 
hang  often  so  heavily  at  the  rich  man's  girdle,  that  they  clog 
him  with  weary  days  and  restless  nights,  even  where  others 
sleep  quietly.  We  see  but  the  outside  of  the  rich  man's  happi 
ness  ;  few  consider  him  to  be  like  the  silk-worm,  that,  when 
she  seems  to  play,  is  at  the  same  time  spinning  her  own  bowels, 
and  consuming  herself.  And  this  many  rich  men  do,  loading 
themselves  with  corroding  cares  to  keep  what  they  have  already 
got.  Let  us,  therefore,  be  thankful  for  health  and  competence, 
and,  above  all,  for  a  quiet  conscience." 

La  Bruyere  wisely  remarks,  "  Let  us  not  envy  some  men 
their  accumulated  riches  ;  their  burden  would  be  too  heavy  for 
us  ;  we  could  not  sacrifice,  as  they  do,  health,  honor,  quiet, 
and  conscience,  to  obtain  them.  It  is  to  pay  so  dear  for  them 
that  the  bargain  is  a  loss." 


78  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


The  classic  page  furnishes  examples  of  a  noble  contempt  of 
wealth,  and  a  virtuous  preference  of  poverty  over  venality  and 
lust  of  riches.  These,  however,  are  rather  exceptions  to  the 
rule  which  sustains  the  converse  of  the  proposition  ;  and  before 
turning  to  the  bright  side,  let  us  briefly  refer  to  one  or  two 
instances  of  the  baneful  effects  of  avarice  on  the  human 
heart. 

The  inordinate  desire  of  wealth  has  been  the  occasion  of 
more  mischief  and  misery  in  the  world  than  anything  else. 
Some  of  the  direst  evils  with  which  the  world  has  ever  been 
afflicted,  have  emanated  from  this  source.  Xo  sooner  had 
Columbus  solved  the  problem  of  the  Western  Continent,  than 
the  accursed  lust  of  gold  began  to  fire  the  sordid  hearts  of  his 
successors.  Every  species  of  perfidy,  cruelty,  and  inhumanity, 
towards  the  aborigines  was  practised  against  them,  in  order  to 
extort  from  them  their  treasures.  These  mercenary  wretches, 
forcing  the  natives  of  Hispaniola  so  mercilessly  to  delve  and 
toil  for  the  much  coveted  ore,  that  they  actually  reduced  their 
numbers,  within  less  than  half  a  century,  from  two  millions  to 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty.  The  conquest  of  Mexico,  by 
Cortez  and  his  followers,  impelled  by  the  same  insatiable  pas 
sion,  was  accompanied  with  horrors,  atrocities,  and  slaughters, 
more  dreadful  and  revolting  than  almost*" any  recorded  iu  the 
annals  of  our  race.  To  prepare  the  way  for  enjoying  the 
plunder  they  had  in  view,  the  unoffending  Indians  were 
butchered  by  thousands  ;  while  carnage  and  every  species  of 
heartless  cruelty  marked  their  progress  of  spoliation.  In  the 
siege  of  Mexico,  no  less  than  a  hundred  thousand  of  the  natives 
were  sacrificed  ;  and,  as  if  to  add  to  the  effrontery  and  depra 
vity  of  the  act,  it  was  perpetrated  under  the  standard  of  the 
cross,  and  with  the  invocation  of  the  God  of  armies  to  aid  the 
conquests.  The  like  atrocities  characterized  the  expedition 
of  Pizarro  for  the  conquest  of  Peru.  Under  perfidious  profes 
sions  of  amity,  they  captured  the  Inca,  butchering  some  four 
thousand  of  his  unresisting  attendants.  The  unfortunate  ernpe* 


THE      MODERN      MOLOCH.  79 


ror,  vainly  hoping  to  regain  his  freedom,  offered  them  as  many 
vessels  of  gold  as  would  fill  an  apartment  twenty-four  feet  long, 
sixteen  wide,  and  eight  high  ;  and  after  having  dispatched 
messengers  to  collect  the  promised  treasures,  he  had  fulfilled 
his  engagement,  when  they  vilely  broke  truce,  and  burnt  their 
wretched  victim.  What  a  fearful  catalogue  of  crime  might  be 
cited  from  the  history  of  religion — Pagan,  Papal,  and  even 
Christian.  The  baneful  effects  of  avarice,  whether  displayed  in 
individual  conduct,  or  among  communities  of  men,  are  the 
same.  We  must  content  ourselves  with  referring  briefly  to  a 
few  instances  of  the  former,  as  illustrative  of  the  force  of  this 
debasing  evil. 

In  the  year  1790,  died  at  Paris,  literally  of  want,  the  well- 
known  banker — Ostervald.  This  miserable  victim  of  this  dis 
ease,  a  few  days  prior  to  his  death,  resisted  the  importunities 
of  his  attendant  to  purchase  some  meat  for  the  purpose  of 
making  a  little  soup  for  him.  "  True,  I  should  like  the  soup," 
he  said,  "but  I  have  no  appetite  for  the  meat  ;  what  is  to 
become  of  that  ?  it  will  be  a  sad  waste."  This  poor  wretch 
died  possessed  of  £125,000  sterling.  Another  desperate  case 
was  that  of  Elwes,  whose  diet  and  dress  were  alike  of  the  most 
revolting  kind,  and  whose  property  was  estimated  at  £800,000 
sterling.  Among  other  characteristic  incidents  related  of 
him,  it  is  said  that  on  the  approach  of  that  dread  summons 
which  was  to  divorce  him  from  his  cherished  gold,  he  exclaimed, 
"  I  will  keep  my  money — nobody  shall  rob  me  of  my  property." 
We  meet  with  the  name  of  Daniel  Dancer,  whose  miserly  pro 
pensities  were  indulged  to  such  a  degree,  that  on  one  occasion, 
when,  at  the  urgent  solicitation  of  a  friend,  he  ventured  to  give 
a  shilling  to  a  Jew  for  an  old  hat — "  better  as  new" — to  the 
astonishment  of  his  friend,  the  next  day  he  actually  retailed  it 
for  eighteen  pence.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  carrying  a  snuff 
box  about  with  him,  not  for  the  purpose  of  regaling  his  olfac 
tory  organ,  but  for  what  does  the  reader  suppose  ?  to  collect 
pinches  of  the  aromatic  dust  from  his  snuff-taking  friends  ;  and 


80  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


when  the  box  was  filled,  he  would  barter  its  contents  for  n 
farthing  rushlight  !  He  performed  his  ablutions  at  a  neigh 
boring  pool,  drying  himself  in  the  sun,  to  save  the  extravagant 
indulgence  of  a  towel.  Other  eccentricities  are  chronicled  of 
this  remarkable  "  case  " — such  as  lying  in  bed  during  the  cold 
weather  to  save  the  cost  of  fuel,  and  eating  garbage  to  save 
the  charges  for  food  :  yet  this  poor  mendicant  had  property 
to  the  extent  of  upwards  of  £3,000  per  annum.  There  was  a 
Russian  merchant — never  mind  his  name,  it  is  too  barbarously 
burdened  with  consonants  to  spell  or  pronounce — who  was  so 
prodigiously  wealthy,  that  on  one  occasion  he  loaned  the 
empress  Catherine  the  Second  a  million  of  rubles,  although  he 
lived  in  the  most  deplorable  state  of  indigence,  privation,  and" 
wretchedness.  He  buried  his  money  in  casks  in  his  cellar,  and 
was  so  great  a  miser  that  he  seemed  almost  to  thrive  upon  his 
very  passion.  He  had  his  troubles,  however,  for  reposing  his 
trust  for  the  security  of  his  possessions  upon  the  fierceness  and 
fidelity  of  his  favorite  dog,  his  bulwark  of  safety  failed  him. 
The  dog  very  perversely  died,  and  his  master  was  driven  to 
the  disagreeable  alternative  of  officiating  iu  the  place  of  the 
deceased  functionary,  by  imitating  the  canine  service — going 
his  rounds  every  evening  and  barking  as  well  as  any  human 
dog  could  be  expected  to  do. 

M.  Yandille,  of  Paris,  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
instances  on  record  of  immense  wealth  being  combined  with 
extreme  penuriousness  ;  he  lodged  as  high  up  as  the  roof  would 
admit,  as  certain  poor  poets  are  said  to  do,  and  lived  on  stale 
bread  and  diluted  milk  ;  notwithstanding  he  possessed  groat 
property  in  the  public  funds.  Chancellor  Hardwicke,  when 
worth  £800,000,  set  the  same  miserly  value  on  a  shilling  as 
when  he  possessed  but  «£100  ;  and  the  great  Duke  of  Marlbo- 
rough,  when  near  the  close  of  life,  was  in  the  habit  of  exhibit 
ing  singular  meanness  to  save  a  sixpence,  although  his  pro 
perty  was  over  a  million  and  a  half  sterling.  The  cases  we 
have  adduced  are  extreme  instances  of  tho  inflnence  of  avarice  ; 


THE     MODERN      MOLOCH.  81 


but  it  should  not  be  forgotten  that  the  principle  of  covetous- 
ness  is  the  same  in  its  tendency  wherever  it  exists,  and  it  is 
only  in  consequence  of  the  counteracting  force  of  circumstances 
that  all  its  victims  fail  to  present  the  same  degree  of  degrada 
tion  and  wretched  moral  deformity. 

More  recently,  we  read  of  an  instance  which  occurred  at 
Xewby,  in  Westmoreland.  This  individual,  when  a  young  man, 
became  possessed  of  a  little  property  ;  he  worked  as  a  laborer, 
and  added  to  his  store  ;  through  a  long  series  of  years  he 
scraped  and  saved,  denying  himself  every  comfort  and  almost 
real  necessaries.  During  his  latter  years  he  lived  in  a  cottage 
alone,  in  the  most  wretched  style.  Several  estates  had  been 
mortgaged  to  him  ;  and  a  box  which  he  kept  at  the  foot  of  his 
bed,  and  upon  which  his  eyes  were  fixed  when  dying,  contained 
money  and  securities  of  the  value  of  £20,000. 

The  well-known  Xat  Bentley  (alias  Dirty  Dick)  of  London, 
belongs  to  this  category.  This  eccentric  specimen  of  humanity 
was  the  victim  not  only  to  a  craving  for  gold,  but  also  for  old 
iron.  We  have  a  dim  recollection  of  the  dingy  old  shop  iii 
Leadenhall  street,  piled  up  with  heaps  of  all  kinds  of  old  iron 
and  lumber.  The  last  twenty  years  of  his  miserable  existence 
were  spent  in  dirt  and  destitution.  Another  deplorable  case 
might  be  cited — that  of  Thomas  Pitt,  of  Warwickshire.  All  his 
solicitude  was  about  his  money  ;  his  pulse  rose  and  fell  with  the 
public  funds.  He  lived  over  thirty  years  ensconced  in  a  gloomy 
garret,  never  enlivened  with  light  of  lamp  or  fire,  or  the  cheer 
ing  smile  of  friendship.  It  is  reported,  that  some  weeks  prior 
to  the  sickness  which  terminated  his  despicable  career,  he  went 
to  several  undertakers  in  quest  of  a  cheap  coffin.  As  he  lived 
without  the  regards,  so  he  died  without  the  regrets,  of  his 
neighbors — a  miserable  illustration  of  the  corrupting  influence 
of  cupidity.  lie  left  behind  him  ^£2,475 — in  the  public  funds. 
Another  instance  is  that  of  the  notorious  Thomas  Cook.  His 
ruling  passion  showed  itself  in  all  its  intensity  at  the  close 
of  his  life,  for  on  his  physician  intimating  the  possibility  of  his 

4* 


82  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


not  existing  more  than  five  or  six  days,  with  a  fierce  look  of 
indignation,  he  protested  against  the  useless  expense  of  sending 
him  medicine,  and  charged  the  doctor  never  to  show*  his  face  to 
him  again.  This  wretched  man  died  unlamented  in  his  86th 
year — a  long  lease  shamefully  abused  and  dishonored.  His 
property  was  estimated  at  about  £130,000  !  How  horribly 
debased  a  man  becomes  when  he  surrenders  himself  up  to  the 
fiendish  passion  for  gain.  His  influence  is  moral  poison. 
Audley  was  another  notorious  instance.  He  lived  in  the  days 
of  the  Stuarts,  and  amassed  much  wealth  during  the  reign  of 
the  first  Charles,  and  the  Protectorate.  He  made  most  of  his 
money  by  usury  and  legal  chicanery.  On  one  occasion,  having 
obtained  for  fifty  pounds  the  debt  of  an  insolvent  for  £200 — 
he  induces  the  party  under  obligation  to  sign  a  contract  that 
he  should  pay,  within  twenty  years  from  that  time,  one  penny, 
progressively  doubled  on  the  first  day  of  twenty  consecutive 
months,  and  in  case  of  failure,  to  forfeit  £500.  Not  suspect 
ing  the  cunningly  devised  cheat,  the  poor  debtor  recommences 
business,  succeeds,  and  at  the  appointed  time  is  called  upon  by 
the  miser  for  the  instalments.  After  making  several  payments, 
he  began  to  figure  up  the  amount  for  which  he  had  made  him 
self  liable,  in  liquidation  of  his  debt  of  £200.  To  what  sum, 
do  you  suppose  would  his  new  liabilities  amount  ?  To  no  less 
than  £2,180!  and  to  what  the  aggregate  sum  of  all  these  twenty 
monthly  payments  ?  Why,  the  enormous  total  of  four  thousand 
three  hundred  and  sixty-six  pounds,  eleven  shillings,  and  three 
pence  ! 

Misers  like  to  feast  their  eyes  with  their  treasure,  as  well  as 
to  handle  it.  We  cite  an  instance  from  a  recent  writer,*  to 
this  effect.  It  is  an  anecdote  related  of  Sir  William  Smyth, 
of  Bedfordshire.  He  was  immensely  rich,  but  most  parsimo 
nious  and  miserly  in  his  habits.  At  seventy  years  of  age,  he  was 
entirely  deprived  of  his  sight,  unable  to  gloat  over  his  hoarded 

*  Merryweather. 


THE      MODERN      MOLOCH.  83 


heaps  of  gold  ;  this  was  a  terrible  affliction.  He  was  per 
suaded  by  Taylor,  the  celebrated  oculist,  to  be  couched  ;  who 
was,  by  agreement,  to  have  sixty  guineas  if  he  restored  his 
patient  to  any  degree  of  sight.  Taylor  succeeded  in  his  opera 
tion,  and  Sir  William  was  enabled  to  read  and  write, 
without  the  aid  of  spectacles,  during  the  rest  of  his  life.  But 
uo  sooner  was  his  sight  restored,  than  the  baronet  began  to 
regret  that  his  agreement  had  been  for  so  large  a  sum  ;  he  felt 
no  joy  as  others  would  have  felt,  but  grieved  and  sighed  over 
the  loss  of  his  sixty  guineas  ?  His  thoughts  were  now  how  to 
cheat  the  oculist  ;  he  pretended  that  he  had  only  a  glimmering 
and  could  see  nothing  distinctly  ;  for  which  reason,  the  ban 
dage  on  his  eyes  was  continued  a  month  longer  than  the  usual 
time.  Taylor  was  deceived  by  these  misrepresentations,  and 
agreed  to  compound  the  bargain,  and  accepted  twenty  guineas, 
instead  of  sixty.  At  the  time  Taylor  attended  him,  he  had  a 
large  estate,  an  immense  sum  of  money  in  the  stocks,  and  six 
thousand  pounds  in  the  house. 

Our  last  citation  exhibits  an  involuntary  case  of  immolation 
to  Moloch. 

A  miser,  of  the  name  of  Foscue,  who  had  amassed  enormous 
wealth  by  the  most  sordid  parsimony  and  discreditable  extor 
tion,  was  requested  by  the  government  to  advance  a  sum  of 
money,  as  a  loan.  The  miser,  to  whom  a  fair  interest  was  not 
inducement  sufficiently  strong  to  enable  him  to  part  with  his 
treasured  gold,  declared  his  incapacity  to  meet  this  demand  ;  he 
pleaded  severe  losses,  and  the  utmost  poverty.  Fearing,  however, 
that  some  of  his  neighbors,  among  whom  he  was  very  unpopular, 
would  report  his  immense  wealth  to  the  government,  he  applied 
his  ingenuity  to  discover  some  effectual  way  of  hiding  his  gold, 
should  they  attempt  to  institute  a  search  to  ascertain  the  truth 
or  falsehood  of  his  plea.  With  great  care  and  secrecy,  he  dug 
a  deep  cave  in  his  cellar  ;  to  this  receptacle  for  his  treasure  he 
descended  by  a  ladder,  and  to  the  trapdoor  he  attached  a 
spring-lock,  so  that,  on  shutting,  it  would  fasten  of  itself.  By- 


84  BALAI)      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


and- by  the  miser  disappeared  :  inquiries  were  made  ;  the  house 
was  searched ;  woods  were  explored,  and  the  ponds  were 
dragged  ;  but  uo  Foscue  could  they  find  ;  and  gossips  began 
to  conclude  that  the  miser  had  fled,  with  his  gold,  to  some  part 
where,  by  living  incognito,  he  would  be  free  from  the  hands  of 
the  government.  Some  time  passed  on  ;  the  house  in  which 
he  had  lived  was  sold,  and  workmen  were  busily  employed  in 
its  repair.  In  the  progress  of  their  work  they  met  with  the 
door  of  the  secret  cave,  with  the  key  iu  the  lock  outside.  They 
threw  back  the  door,  and  descended  with  a  light.  The  first 
object  upon  which  the  lamp  reflected  was  the  ghastly  body  of 
Foscue  the  miser,  and  scattered  around  him  were  heavy  bags 
of  gold,  and  ponderous  chests  of  untold  treasure  ;  a  candlestick 
lay  beside  him  on  the  floor.  This  worshipper  of  Mammon  had 
gone  into  his  cave,  to  pay  his  devoirs  to  his  golden  god,  and 
became  a  sacrifice  to  his  devotion  I 

Occasionally,  these  wretched  monopolizers  of  money  are 
really  more  indulgent  to  the  world  than  to  themselves. 
Guyot  of  Marseilles,  was  a  despised  tatterdemalion  all  his 
life,  yet  many  benefited  by  his  parsimony.  His  executors, 
on  opening  his  will,  found  these  remarkable  words  : — "  Having 
observed,  from  my  infancy,  that  the  poor  of  Marseilles  are  ill- 
supplied  with  water,  which  can  only  be  procured  at  a  great 
price,  I  have  cheerfully  labored  the  whole  of  my  life  to  procure 
for  them  this  great  blessing,  and  I  direct  that  the  whole  of  my 
property  shall  be  expended  in  building  an  aqueduct  for  their 
use  !" 

We  might  here  glance  at  the  effects  of  an  opposite  disposition, 
as  illustrated  in  a  few  examples  of  distinguished  benevolence. 
Alfred  the  Great,  among  other  noble  traits  of  character, 
exhibited,  on  a  certain  occasion,  an  instance  of  exemplary 
sympathy  for  the  suffering,  under  circumstances  which  tested 
unequivocally  the  goodness  of  his  heart.  Shortly  after  the 
retreat  from  his  enemies,  a  beggar  came  to  his  little  castle, 
soliciting  alms.  The  queen  informed  him  that  they  had  but  one 


THE      MODERN      MOLOCH.  85 


small  loaf  remaining,  which  was  insufficient  for  themselves  and 
their  friends,  who  were  gone  in  quest  of  food,  though  with  little 
hope  of  success.  The  king  replied,  "  Give  the  poor  Christian 
one  half  of  the  loaf.  He  that  could  feed  five  thousand  with 
five  loaves  and  two  fishes,  can  certainly  make  that  half  loaf 
suffice  for  more  than  our  necessity."  His  fortitude  and  faith 
were  rewarded,  for  the  messengers  and  adherents  of  the 
monarch  soon  after  returned  with  a  liberal  supply  of  provisions. 
The  late  king  of  Prussia  affords  another  instance  of  benevolence. 
On  a  certain  occasion  he  rang  the  bell  of  his  cabinet,  but,  as 
nobody  answered,  he  opened  the  door  of  the  ante-chamber,  and 
found  his  page  fast  asleep  upon  a  chair.  He  went  up  to  awake 
him  ;  but,  on  coming  nearer,  he  observed  a  paper  in  his  pocket 
upon  which  something  was  written.  This  excited  his  curiosity. 
He  pulled  it  out,  and  found  that  it  was  a  letter  from  the  page's 
mother,  the  contents  of  which  were  nearly  as  follows  :  "  She 
returned  her  son  many  thanks  for  the  money  he  had  saved  out  of 
his  salary,  and  sent  to  her,  and  which  had  proved  a  very  timely 
assistance.  God  would  certainly  reward  him  for  it,  and,  if  he 
continued  to  serve  God  and  his  king  faithfully  and  conscien 
tiously,  he  would  not  fail  of  success  and  prosperity  in  this 
world."  "Upon  reading  this  the  king  stepped  softly  into  his 
closet,  fetched  a  rouleau  of  ducats,  and  put  it,  with  the  letter, 
into  the  page's  pocket.  He  then  rang  the  bell  again,  till  the  page 
awoke,  and  came  into  his  closet.  "  You  have  been  asleep,  I 
suppose  ?"  said  the  king.  The  page  could  not  deny  it,  stam 
mered  out  an  excuse  (in  his  embarrassment),  put  his  hand  into 
his  pocket,  and  felt  the  rouleau  of  ducats.  He  immediately 
pulled  it  out,  turned  pale,  and  looked  at  the  king  with  tears  in 
his  eyes.  "  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?"  said  the  king. 
"  Oh,"  replied  the  page,  "  somebody  has  contrived  my  ruin  :  I 
know  nothing  of  this  money  !"  "  What  God  bestows,"  resum 
ed  the  king,  "  he  bestows  in  sleep.  Send  the  money  to  your 
mother — give  my  respects  to  her,  and  inform  her  that  I  will 
take  care  both  of  her  and  you.1' 


86  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


Take  a  passage  from  the  Life  of  Washington  :  "  Reuben 
Rouzy,  of  Virginia,  owed  the  General  about  one  thousand 
pounds.  While  President  of  the  United  States,  one  of  his 
agents  brought  an  action  for  the  money  ;  judgment  was 
obtained,  and  execution  issued  against  the  body  of  the  defen 
dant,  who  was  taken  to  jail.  He  had  a  considerable  landed 
estate,  but  this  kind  of  property  cannot  be  sold  in  Virginia  for 
debts,  unless  at  the  discretion  of  the  owner.  He  had  a  large 
family,  and  for  the  sake  of  his  children,  preferred  lying  in  jail 
to  selling  his  land.  A  friend  hinted  io  him  that  probably 
General  Washington  did  not  know  anything  of  the  proceeding, 
and  that  it  might  be  well  to  send  him  a  petition,  with  a  state 
ment  of  the  circumstances.  He  did  so,  and  the  very  next  post 
from  Philadelphia  after  the  arrival  of  his  petition  in  that  city, 
brought  him  an  order  for  his  immediate  release,  together  with 
a  full  discharge,  and  a  severe  reprimand  to  the  agent,  for 
having  acted  in  such  a  manner.  Poor  Rouzy  was,  in  conse 
quence,  restored  to  his  family,  who  never  laid  down  their  he'ads 
at  night  without  presenting  prayers  to  Heaven  for  their 
'  beloved  Washington.'  Providence  smiled  upon  the  labors  of 
the  grateful  family,  and  in  a  few  years  Rouzy  enjoyed  the 
exquisite  pleasure  of  being  able  to  lay  the  one  thousand  pounds, 
with  the  interest,  at  the  feet  of  this  truly  great  man. 
Washington  reminded  him  that  the  debt  was  discharged  ; 
Rouzy  replied,  the  debt  of  his  family  to  the  father  of  their 
country,  and  the  preserver  of  their  parent  could  never  be 
discharged  :  and  the  general  to  avoid  the  pleasing  importunity 
of  the  grateful  Virginian,  who  would  not  be  denied,  accepted 
the  money,  only,  however,  to  divide  it  among  Rouzy's  children, 
which  he  immediately  did." 

There  is  an  interesting  fact  related  of  the  hero  of  Poland, 
indicative  of  his  customary  practice  of  almsgiving.  Wishing 
to  convey  a  present  to  a  clerical  friend,  he  gave  the  commission 
to  a  young  man  of  the  name  of  Teltner,  desiring  him  to  take 
the  horse  which  he  himself  usually  rode.  On  his  return,  the 


THE      MODERN      MOLOCH.  87 


messenger  informed  Kosciusko  that  he  would  never  again  ride 
his  horse  unless  he  gave  him  his  purse  at  the  same  time  :  and 
on  the  latter  inquiring  what  he  meant,  he  replied  :  "  As  soon  as 
a  poor  man  on  the  road  takes  off  his  hat  and  asks  charity,  the 
animal  immediately  stands  still,  and  will  not  stir  till  something 
is  bestowed  upon  the  petitioner  ;  and  as  I  had  no  money  about 
me,  I  had  to  feign  giving  in  order  to  satisfy  the  horse,  and  in 
duce  him  to  proceed."  This  noble  creature  deserved  a  pension 
and  exemption  from  active  service  for  the  term  of  his  natural  life, 
on  account  of  his  superior  education  and  refined  moral  sensi 
bility. 

Among  the  bright  galaxy  of  noble  names,  that  of  John 
Howard  will  ever  take  prominent  rank  in  the  list  of  benefactors. 
After  inspecting  the  receptacles  of  crime  and  poverty  through 
out  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  he  left  his  native  country, 
relinquishing  his  own  ease,  to  visit  the  wretched  abodes  of  those 
who  were  in  want,  and  were  bound  in  fetters  of  iron  in  other 
parts  of  the  world.  He  travelled  three  times  through  France, 
four  through  Germany,  five  through  Holland,  twice  through 
Italy,  once  through  Spain  and  Portugal,  Russia,  Sweden 
Denmark,  and  part  of  Turkey — occupying  a  period  of 
about  twelve  years.  Without  the  few  bright  spots  in  the 
world's  arid  waste  of  selfishness,  that  occasionally  irradiate  the 
gloomy  lot  of  the  oppressed  and  poor,  what  a  dreary  life  of 
deprivation  and  sorrow  would  be  their  portion.  Man  is  neces 
sarily  a  selfish  being  to  a  certain  extent,  but  the  social  principle 
is  no  less  an  attribute  of  his  nature  ;  and  the  divine  injunction 
requiring  him  to  love  his  neighbor  as  himself,  was  doubtless 
imposed  for  the  preservation  of  the  weak  and  dependent,  as  well 
as  being  the  palladium  of  all  the  virtues  of  our  social  economy. 
As  a  class,  the  poor  are,  indeed,  often  prodigal  of  their  gifts, 
while  the  affluent  are  no  less  penurious  ;  the  former  may 
almost  be  said  to  rob  themselves,  while  the  latter  defraud 
society  of  the  common  inheritance  of  mankind.  To  choose 
between  the  two  conditions,  indeed,  were  not  difficult ;  the 


88  SALADFOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


"golden  mean" — neither   poverty  nor  riches — should  be  the 
aim  of  all  ;  yet,  in  the  words  of  the  prince  of  poets, 

Poor  and  content,  is  rich,  and  rich  enough  : 
But  riches  endless  is  as  poor  as  winter 
To  him  that  even  fears  he  shall  be  poor. 

The  author  of  "  Xotes  on  Life"  judiciously  sums  up  the 
question  in  the  following  paragraph. 

"  The  philosophy  which  affects  to  teach  us  a  contempt  of 
money,  does  not  run  very  deep  ;  for,  indeed,  it  ought  to  be  still 
more  clear  to  the  philosopher  than  it  is  to  ordinary  men,  that 
there  are  few  things  in  the  world  of  greater  importance.  A  nd 
so  manifold  are  the  bearings  of  money  upon  the  lives  and  cha 
racters  of  mankind,  that  an  insight  which  should  search  out  the 
life  of  a  man  in  his  pecuniary  relations  would  penetrate  into 
almost  every  cranny  of  his  nature.  He  who  knows,  like  St. 
Paul,  both  how  to  spare  and  how  to  abound,  has  a  great  know 
ledge  ;  for  if  we  take  account  of  all  the  virtues  with  which 
money  is  mixed  up — honesty,  justice,  generosity,  charity,  fru 
gality,  forethought,  self-sacrifice — and  of  their  correlative  vices, 
it  is  a  knowledge  which  goes  near  to  cover  the  length  and 
breadth  of  humanity  ;  and  a  right  measure  and  manner  in 
getting,  saving,  spending,  giving,  taking,  lending,  borrowing, 
and  bequeathing,  would  almost  argue  a  perfect  man." 

We  must  not  forget  that,  while  some  few  abuse  wealth, 
there  are  vastly  more  who  know  its  appropriate  use  and  worth. 
With  such,  money  is  the  procurer  of  our  common  blessings. 
Money  is  then  the  universal  talisman,  the  mainspring  of  our 
social  system,  the  lever  that  moves  the  world.  Some  moderns, 
like  Socrates  (who  wrote  in  praise  of  poverty  on  a  table  of 
solid  gold),  cynically  speak  against  wealth.  It  is,  however,  the 
great  motive  agent  in  all  departments  of  the  social  economy  ; 
helping  on  the  civilization  of  the  world,  and  ministering  not 
merely  to  the  elegances,  but  also  the  essentials  of  life.  Money 


THE      MODERN      MOLOCH.  89 


represents  labor.  Au  eloquent  writer*  asks  "who  can  ade 
quately  describe  the  triumphs  of  labor,  urged  on  by  the  potent 
spell  of  money  ?  It  has  extorted  the  secrets  of  the  universe, 
and  trained  its  powers  into  myriads  of  forms  of  use  and  beauty. 
From  the  bosom  of  the  old  creation,  it  has  developed  anew  the 
creation  of  industry  and  art.  It  has  been  its  task  and  its 
glory  to  overcome  obstacles.  Mountains  have  been  levelled, 
and  valleys  been  exalted  before  it.  It  has  broken  the  rocky 
soil  into  fertile  glades  ;  it  has  crowned  the  hill-tops  with  fruit 
and  verdure,  and  bound  around  the  very  feet  of  ocean,  ridges 
of  golden  corn.  Up  from  the  sunless  and  hoary  deeps,  up 
from  the  shapeless  quarry,  it  drags  its  spotless  marbles,  and 
rears  its  palaces  of  pomp.  It  tears  the  stubborn  metals  from 
the  bowels  of  the  globe,  and  makes  them  ductile  to  its  will. 
It  marches  steadily  on  over  the  swelling  flood,  and  through  the 
mountain  clefts.  It  fans  its  way  through  the  winds  of  ocean, 
tramples  them  in  its  course,  surges  and  mingles  them  with 
flakes  of  fire.  Civilization  follows  in  its  paths.  It  achieves 
grander  victories,  it  weaves  more  durable  trophies,  it  holds 
wider  sway  than  the  conqueror.  His  name  becomes  tainted 
and  his  monuments  crumble  ;  but  labor  converts  his  red  battle 
fields  into  gardens,  and  erects  monuments  significant  of  better 
things.  It  rides  in  a  chariot  driven  by  the  wind.  It  writes 
with  the  lightning.  It  sits  crowned  as  a  queen  in  a  thousand 
cities,  and  sends  up  its  roar  of  triumph  from  a  million  wheels. 
It  glistens  in  the  fabric  of  the  loom,  it  rings  and  sparkles  from 
the  steely  hammer,  it  glories  in  shapes  of  beauty,  it  speaks  in 
words  of  power,  it  makes  the  sinewy  arm  strong  with  liberty, 
the  poor  man's  heart  rich  with  content,  crowns  the  swarthy 
and  sweaty  brow  with  honor,  and  dignity,  and  peace." 

We  have  not  mentioned  a  class  who  have  been  styled  par 
venu,  such  as  have  acquired  wealth,  and  with  it  the  vulgar 
passion  for  display.  Such  characters  are  to  be  found  in  all 

*  Rev.  Mr.  Chapin. 


90  SALAD     FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


communities,  but  especially  in  those  of  recent  formation. 
Unless  culture  and  refinement  accompany  the  possession  of 
great  wealth,  the  deformity  is  but  the  more  obtrusive. 

"  Worth  makes  the  man,  the  want  of  it  the  fellow, 
The  rest  is  naught  but  leather  and  pruuello." 

A  gentleman  has  been  defined  "a  Christian  in  spirit  that 
will  take  a  polish."  The  rest  are  but  plated  goods,  and,  what 
ever  their  fashion,  rub  them  as  you  may,  the  base  metal  will 
show  itself  still. 

Whether  in  ermine  or  fustian,  there  is  no  disguising  charac 
ter  :  the  refined  may  be  seen  in  the  latter,  as  palpably  as  the 
vulgar  in  the  former  : 

"  You  may  daub  and  bedizen  the  man  as  you  will, 
But  the  stamp  of  the  vulgar  remains  on  him  still." 

It  is  from  this  class  that  virtuous  poverty  has  most  to  suffer. 
These  are  they  who  "  grind  the  faces  of  the  poor,"  who,  not 
withstanding  the  proverb  that  "poverty  is  no  crime,"  yet  treat 
a  man  without  money  as  if  he  were  without  principle  ;  who 
gauge  the  wit  and  worth  of  a  man  by  his  wearing-apparel  and 
his  wealth  \  who  deem  it  absurd  for  a  poor  man  to  assert  his 
possession  of  intelligence,  learning,  or,  in  fact,  any  endowment 
whatever.  Goldsmith,  referring  to  this  depreciating  influence 
of  poverty,  says — a  poor  man  resembles  a  fiddler,  whose  music, 
though  liked,  is  not  much  praised,  because  he  lives  by  it  ; 
while  a  gentleman  performer,  though  the  most  wretched  scraper 
alive,  throws  the  audience  into  raptures. 

The  want  of  money  but  deprives  us  of  friends  not  worth  the 
keeping  :  it  cuts  us  out  of  society  to  which  dress  and  equipage 
are  the  only  introduction,  and  deprives  us  of  a  number  of  need 
less  luxuries  and  gilded  fetters. 

"  I  am  rich  enough,"  says  Pope  to  Swift,  "  and  can  afford  to 
give  away  a  hundred  pounds  a  year.  I  would  not  crawl  upon 


THE      MODERN      MOLOCH.  91 


the  earth  without  doing  a  little  good.  I  will  enjoy  the  plea 
sure  of  what  I  give  by  giving  it  alive,  and  seeing  another  enjoy 
it.  "When  I  die  I  should  be  ashamed  to  leave  enough  for  a 
monument,  if  a  wanting  friend  was  above  ground."  That 
speech  of  Pope  is  enough  to  immortalize  him  ;  independently 
of  his  philosophic  verse. 

That  which  was  so  diligently  sought  by  the  alchemists  of  old, 
the  contented  mau  has  discovered.  Contentment  is  the  true 
philosopher's  stone  which  transmutes  all  it  touches  to  gold  ; 
and  the  divine  maxim  that  "  a  man's  life  consisteth  not  in  the 
abundance  of  the  things  which  he  possesseth,"  is  itself  a  golden 
maxim. 

"Why  need  I  strive  or  sigh  for  wealth? 

It  is  enough  for  me 
That  Heaven  hath  sent  me  strength  and  health, 

A  spirit  glad  and  free  ; 
Grateful  these  blessings  to  receive, 
I  sing  my  hymn  at  morn  and  eve." 

Of  all  the  artificial  distinctions  which  obtain  in  civilized  life, 
none  are  more  absolute  in  their  nature,  or  tyrannical  in  their 
effects,  than  those  which  divide  the  poor  from  the  rich.  Differ 
ence  of  condition  tends  more  to  disturb  the  harmony  of  the 
social  compact,  and  to  annihilate  the  common  sympathies  of 
mankind,  than  anything  else  in  the  world.  It  not  only  often 
sunders  the  nearest  and  dearest  ties  of  relationship,  but  also 
perverts  the  best  feelings  of  our  nature,  and  thus  becomes  the 
fruitful  source  of  most  of  the  social  evils  which  afflict  humanity. 
Few  comparatively  become  possessed  of  great  wealth,  and 
fewer  still  of  the  affluent  are  found  among  the  magnanimous 
almoners  who  delight  to  minister  to  the  necessities,  and  mitigate 
the  sufferings  of  the  children  of  want  It  is  proverbial  that 
the  poor  are  the  most  generous,  and  that  the  acquisition  of 
wealth  has  a  direct  tendency  to  make  men  selfish  and  parsimo 
nious.  As  a  general  rule,  the  opulent  become  more  and  more 


92  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


the  victims  of  a  heartless  insensibility  to  the  claims  of  others 
in  proportion  as  they  indulge  a  lavish  prodigality  upon  self. 
What  outrage  and  wrong  have  been  perpetrated  by  some  of 
the  minions  of  fortune,  upon  those  whom  it  was  their  duty  to 
befriend  !  "  To  be  able  to  soften  the  calamities  of  mankind," 
said  Melmoth,  "  and  inspire  gladness  into  a  heart  oppressed 
with  want,  is  indeed  the  noblest  privilege  of  fortune  ;  but  to 
exercise  that  privilege  in  all  its  generous  refinements,  is  an 
instance  of  the  most  uncommon  elegance,  both  of  temper  and 
understanding.  In  the  ordinary  dispensations  of  bounty,  little 
address  is  required  ;  but  when  it  is  to  be  applied  to  those  of  a 
superior  rank  and  more  elevated  minds,  there  is  as  much 
charity  discovered  in  the  manner  as  in  the  measure  of  our  bene 
volence.  It  is  extremely  mortifying  to  a  well-formed  spirit  to 
see  itself  considered  an  object  of  compassion  ;  and  it  is  the  part 
of  improved  humanity  to  honor  this  honest  pride  in  our  nature, 
and  to  relieve  the  necessities  without  offending  the  delicacy  of 
the  distressed." 

Comparatively  few  homesteads  are  found  exempt  from  some 
"  poor  relation."  Indeed,  it  has  become  so  proverbial,  that  the 
very  name  seems  to  inspire  a  feeling  of  the  comic  as  well  as  the 
pathetic.  A  poor  relation,  according  to  Charles  Lamb,  is  the 
most  irrelevant  thing  in  nature — a  piece  of  impertinent  corres 
pondency — an  odious  approximation — a  haunting  conscience — 
a  preposterous  shadow,  lengthening  in  the  noontide  of  our 
prosperity — an  unwelcome  remembrancer — a  perpetually-recur 
ring  mortification — a  drain  on  your  purse,  a  more  intolerable 
dun  than  your  pride — a  drawback  upon  success — a  rebuke  to 
your  rising — a  stain  in  your  blood — a  blot  on  your  escutcheon 
— a  rent  in  your  garment — an  apology  to  your  friends — the 
one  thing  not  needful — the  hail  in  harvest — the  ounce  of  sour 
in  a  pound  of  sweet.  He  is  all  this  ;  and,  more  than  all  the 
rest,  he  is  a  severe  test  upon  the  claims  of  consanguinity ;  and 
often  the  only  link  that  binds  the  poor  neglected  object  to  his 
"  kith  and  kin,"  is  the  fear  of  the  world's  scorn  and  reproba- 


THE      MODERN      MOLOCH.  93 


tiou,  which  most  men  "  well  to  do  in  the  world  "  have  not  the 
hardihood  to  brave. 

Touching  "  poor  .relations,"  we  are  reminded  of  the  amusing 
instance  of  the  sister  of  Sir  George  Rose,  speaker  of  the  House 
of  Commons.  Margaret  Rose  was  proof  against  the  meanness 
and  insensibility  of  her  brother,  and  bravely  resented  his  inhu 
manity  in  the  following  manner.  She  hired  a  small  cottage  on 
the  road-side,  leading  to  the  country  mansion  of  Sir  George, 
ami  placed  over  the  door  this  intimation,  for  the  especial  benefit 
of  the  baronet's  friends. 

MARGARET  ROSE, 

SISTER     OF     SIR     GEORGE     ROSE, 
TAKES    IX    WASHING    HERE. 

The  ingenious  expedient  had  its  effect  upon  the  vanity  and 
heartless  selfishness  of  Sir  George,  who  immediately  sent  word 
to  her  that  if  she  would  take  down  her  sign  he  would  give  her 
an  annuity  for  life.  This  offer,  it  is  said,  however,  the  high- 
minded  lady  indignantly  disdained  to  accept,  preferring  rather 
to  punish  the  titled  offender  against  humanity  and  decency, 
although  at  her  own  cost.  This  is  but  the  type  of  a  class  still 
extant. 

The  French,  whose  imaginative  faculty  is  in  advance  even 
of  the  gravity  of  their  matter-of-fact  neighbors  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  channel,  thus  reduce  our  theme  into  the  form  of  an 
enigma. 

There  is  a  being  who  is  a  citizen  of  the  world,  who  travels 
incessantly.  The  air  is  not  more  subtle  ;  water  is  not  more 
fluid.  He  removes  everything — replaces  everything.  He  is 
mute,  yet  speaks  all  languages,  and  is  the  most  eloquent  of 
orators.  He  appeases  all  quarrels,  all  tumults,  and  he  foments 
and  encourages  all  laws  and  lawsuits.  He  excites  courage,  and 
instigates  cowardice  ;  braves  all  seas,  breaks  down  all  barriers, 


94  SALAD      FOK     THE      SOCIAL. 


and  will  never  sojourn  anywhere.  He  diminishes  all  geographi 
cal  distances,  and  increases  all  moral  ones.  He  makes  rougher 
all  social  inequalities,  or  levels  them.  He  has  power  over  all 
trades.  He  procures  repose,  and  banishes  sleep.  He  is  the 
strong  arm  of  tyranny,  and  the  guarantee  of  independence. 
Virtue  despises,  and  yet  cannot  do  without  him.  His  presence 
gives  birth  to  pride  ;  his  'absence  humbles  it.  He  is  audacious, 
imperious,  and  impudent  :  he  is  benevolent,  and  willing  to 
relieve.  He  is  the  best  of  friends,  and  the  most  dangerous  of 
enemies  ;  the  wisest,  and  most  fatal  of  advisers.  At  the  voice 
of  the  prodigal,  he  transforms  his  land  and  house  iuto  dust 
which  may  be  given  to  the  winds  ;  and  he  assists  the  provident 
man  to  heap  up  his  savings.  Innocent  himself,  he  corrupts 
innocence.  He  provokes  all  crimes,  protects  all  vices,  and 
attacks  all  virtues.  He  is  no  less  the  idol  of  universal  worship. 
Nations,  individuals  contend  for  his  exclusive  possession, 
although  he  is  their  mutual  and  necessary  interpreter.  He 
causes  pleasure  and  satiety.  He  is  equally  serviceable  to 
caprices  and  wants,  as  to  taste  and  passions.  He  gives  nourish 
ment  and  toys  to  infancy,  and  he  is  nourishment  and  toys  to 
old  age.  He  conveys  bread  to  the  mouth  of  the  paralytic,  and 
daggers  to  the  hand  of  the  assassin.  He  is  deaf  to  the  poor 
who  implore  him,  and  he  forces  himself  upon  the  rich  who 
prostitute  him.  He  is  the  maker  of  all  marriages,  and  the 
divider  of  all  families.  His  natural,  disposition  is  to  travel 
unceasingly.  He  is  fit  for  every  kind  of  service,  but  withal  a 
wanderer.  If  he  comes  to  you,  it  is  but  to  leave  you.  If  you 
retain  him,  he  is  good  for  nothing — he  sleeps.  Take  care  that 
he  returns,  for  he  knows  how  to  do  everything  ;  he  is  success 
ful  in  all.  If  you  want  employment,  orders,  titles,  honors,  or 
even  absolutions,  address  yourself  to  him  ;  he  knows  all  the 
magazines  ;  he  has  all  the  keys.  Are  you  weak,  or  powerful  ? 
No  matter,  he  will  make  you  either  a  Croesus  or  an  Irus. 
He  is  in  the  midst  of  all  good  and  all  evil.  He  burned 


THE      MODERN      MOLOCH. 


95 


Copenhagen,  and  built  Petersburg!).  He  is  inactive,  and  yet 
the  universal  mover.  He  is  inanimate,  yet  the  soul  of  the 
world.  In  the  plenitude  of  his  power,  would  he  bestow  health, 
he  sends  Hippocrates  ;  would  he  defy  death,  he  raises  pyra 
mids.  Lastly,  sprung  from  the  dirt,  he  is  regarded  as  a  divinity. 
But  of  whom  or  what  are  we  speaking  ? — 


THE  TOILET  AND  ITS  DEVOTEES. 


"  Smilingly  fronting  the  mirror  she  stands, 
Her  white  fingers  loosening  the  prisoned  brown  bands 
To  wander  at  will — and  they  kiss,  as  they  go, 
Her  brow,  and  her  cheek,  and  her  shoulders  of  snow. 
Her  violet  eyes,  with  their  soft,  changing  light, 
Growing  darker  when  sad,  and  when  merry  more  bright, 
Look  in  at  the  image,  till  the  lips  of  the  twain 
Smile  at  seeing  how  each  gives  the  smile  back  again." 

Dean  Swift  proposed  to  tax  female  beauty,  and  to  leave 
every  lady  to  rate  her  own  charms.  He  said  the  tax  would  be 
cheerfully  paid,  and  very  productive. 

The  intimate  relations  between  woman's  beauty,  and  her 
toilet-glass  render  it  impossible  for  the  fair  possessor  to  be 
unconscious  of  her  endowment,  and  consequently  it  would  be 
always  at  a  premium.  We  remember  a  young  surgeon  once 
professed  he  would  any  day  prefer  a  good  dissection  to  a  good 

dinner  ;  we  question  his  taste,  and  if  the  dinner  challenge  were 
9: 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES.  97 


presented  to  us,  in  behalf  of  beauty,  we  would  greatly  prefer  to 
accept  of  it.  A  good  dinner,  it  is  true,  makes  its  appeal  to 
the  hungry,  but  a  vision  of  beauty  is  a  delectation  to  the  eye, 
if  less  substantial,  far  more  refining. 

Beauty  is  inflexible  :  it  appears  to  us  a  dream,  when  we 
contemplate  the  works  of  the  great  artists  ;  it  is  a  hovering, 
floating,  and  glittering  shadow,  whose  outline  eludes  the  grasp 
of  definition.  Mendelsshon,  the  philosopher,  grandfather  of  the 
composer,  and  others,  tried  to  catch  Beauty  as  a  butterfly,  and 
{tin  it  down  for  inspection.  They  have  succeeded  in  the  same 
way  as  they  are  likely  to  succeed  with  a  butterfly.  The  poor 
animal  trembles  and  struggles,  and  its  brightest  colors  are 
gone  ;  or,  if  you  catch  it  without  spoiling  the  colors,  you  have 
at  best  a  stiff  and  awkward  corpse.  But  a  corpse  is  not  an 
entire  animal,  it  wants  what  is  essential  in  all  things,  namely, 
life — spirit,  which  sheds  beauty  on  everything.* 

Lord  Bacon  observed  justly,  that  the  best  part  of  beauty  is 
that  which  a  picture  cannot  express. 

Beauty  is  indescribable  and  inexplicable  ;  it  fascinates, 
dazzles,  and  bewilders  us  with  its  mystic  power.  Woman  has 
been  defined  something  midway  between  a  flower  and  an  angel  ; 
as  the  sunny  half  of  earth.  It  has  been  well  said  that  woman's 
beauty  does  not  consist  merely  in  what  is  called  a  pretty  face. 
An  old  lyric  writer  of  the  seventeenth  century  thus  apostro 
phizes  it. 

"  There  is  a  garden  in  her  face, 

Where  roses  and  and  white  lilies  grow  ; 

A  heavenly  Paradise  is  that  place, 
Wherein  all  pleasant  fruits  do  flow. 

There  cherries  grow,  that  none  may  buy 

Till  cherry  ripe  themselves  do  cry. 

"  These  cherries  fairly  do  enclose 
Of  orient  pearl  a  double  row, 

*  Goethe. 


08  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


Which  when  her  lovely  laughter  shows, 

They  look  like  rosebuds  filled  with  snow  : 
Yet  these  no  peer,  nor  prince,  may  buy, 
Till  cherry  ripe  themselves  do  cry. 

"  Her  eyes,  like  angels,  watch  them  still ; 

Her  brows,  like  bended  bows,  do  stand, 
Threatening,  with  piercing  frowns  to  kill 

All  that  approach  with  eye  or  hand, 
Those  sacred  cherries  to  come  nigh, 
Till  cherry  ripe  themselves  do  cry.'' 

"  Women  are  the  poetry  of  the  world,  in  the  same  sense  as 
the  stars  are  the  poetry  of  heaven.  Clear,  light-giving1,  harmo 
nious,  they  are  the  terrestial  planets  that  rule  the  destines  of 
mankind."* 

"  I  saw  her,  upon  nearer  view, 

A  spirit,  yet  a  woman  too. 

Her  household  motions  light  and  free, 

And  steps  of  virgin  liberty  ; 

A  countenance  in  which  did  meet 

Sweet  records,  promises  as  sweet. 

A  creature  not  two  bright  or  good 

For  human  nature's  daily  food, 

For  transient  sorrows,  simple  wiles, 

Praise,  blame,  love,  kisses,  tears,  and  pmiles." 

Wordsworth's  charming  portraiture  of  womanly  sweetness  is 
worthy  alike  of  the  subject  and  the  writer  :  it  is  doubtless 
familiar  to  the  reader. 

Another  pen  has  dilated  upon  it  in  prose,  as  followeth  : 
Those  who  are  accustomed  to  enlightened  views  of  female 
beauty,  well  know  that  there  are  different  kinds  of  personal 
beauty,  among  which  that  of  form  and  coloring  hold  a  very 
inferior  rank.  There  is  a  beauty  of  expression,  for  instance,  of 
sweetness,  of  nobility,  of  intellectual  refinement,  of  feeling,  of 
animation,  of  meekness,  of  resignation,  and  many  other  kinds  of 
beauty,  which  may  be  allied  to  the  plainest  features,  and  yet 

*  Hargrave. 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES.  99 


may  remain  to  give  pleasure  long  after  the  blooming  cheek  has 
faded,  and  silver  grey  has  mingled  with  the  hair.  And  how 
far  more  powerful  in  their  influence  upon  others,  are  some  of 
those  kinds  of  beauty  !  For,  after  all,  beauty  depends  more 
upon  the  movement  of  the  face,  than  upon  the  form  of  the 
features  when  at  rest  ;  and  thus,  a  countenance  habitually 
under  the  influence  of  amiable  feelings,  acquires  a  beauty  of  the 
highest  order,  from  the  frequency  with  which  such  feelings  are 
the  originating  causes  of  the  movement  or  expressions  which 
stamp  their  character  upon  it.  Who  has  not  waited  for  the 
first  opening  of  the  lips  of  a  celebrated  belle,  to  see  whether  her 
claims  would  be  supported  by  "  the  mind,  the  music  breathing 
from  her  face  f  and  who  has  not  occasionally  turned  away 
repelled  by  the  utter  blank,  or  worse  than  blank,  which  the 
simple  movement  of  the  mouth  in  speaking  or  smiling,  has 
revealed  ?  The  language  of  poetry  describes  the  loud  laugh  as 
indicative  of  the  vulgar  mind  ;  and  certainly  there  are  expres 
sions,  conveyed  through  the  medium  of  a  smile,  which  need  not 
Lavatcr  to  inform  us  that  refinement  of  feeling,  or  elevation  of 
soul,  has  little  to  do  with  the  fair  countenance  on  which  they 
are  impressed.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are  plain  women 
sometimes  met  in  society,  every  movement  of  whose  features  is 
instinct  with  intelligence  ;  who,  from  the  genuine  heart-warm 
smiles  which  play  about  the  mouth,  the  sweetly  modulated 
voice,  and  the  lighting  up  of  an  eye,  that  looks  as  if  it  could 
"  comprehend  the  universe,"  becomes  perfectly  beautiful  to 
those  who  live  with  them  and  love  them.  Before  such  preten 
sions  as  these,  how  soon  does  the  pink-and-white  of  a  merely 
pretty  face  vanish  to  nothing  ! 

Among  the  many  tributes  to  beauty  is  an  old  epigram,  that 
may  be  new  to  some — it  runs  as  follows, — 

"  This  world's  a  prison,  a  sad  gloomy  den, 

Whose  walls  are  the  heavens  in  common  : 
The  jailer  is  Sin — and  the  prisoners  men, 
And  the  fetters  are  nothing  but  women." 


100  SALAD   FOR   THE   SOCIAL. 


Fontenelle  thus  daintily  compliments  the  sex,  when  he  com 
pares  women  and  clocks — the  latter  serve  to  point  out  the  hours, 
the  former  to  make  us  forget  them. 

There  is  a  magic  power  in  beauty  that  all  confess — a  strange 
witchery  that  fascinates  and  enchants  us  with  a  potency  as 
irresistible  as  that  of  the  magnet.  It  is  to  the  moral  world 
what  gravitation  is  to  the  physical.  It  is  easier  to  write 
about  beauty  in  woman  and  its  all-pervading  influence,  than  to 
define  what  it  is  :  and,  to  aid  in  the  dilemma,  we  cite  from  an 
old  French  writer,  its  elements  in  detail : 

"  Thirty  points  of  perfection  each  judge  understands, 
The  standard  of  feminine  beauty  demands, 
Three  white  : — and,  without  further  prelude,  we  know, 
That  the  skin,  hands,  and  teeth  should  be  pearly  as  snow. 
Three  black  : — and  our  standard  departure  forbids 
From  dark  eyes,  darksome  tresses,  and  darkly  fringed  lids. 
Three  red  : — and  the  lover  of  comeliness  seeks 
For  the  hue  of  the  rose  in  the  lips,  nails,  and  cheeks. 
Three  long  :  and  of  this  you,  no  doubt,  are  aware. 
Long  the  body  should  be,  long  the  hands,  long  the  hair. 
Three  short : — and  herein  nicest  beauty  appears — 
Feet  short  as  a  fairy's,  short  teeth,  and  short  ears. 
Three  large  : — and  remember  this  rule,  as  to  size, 
Embraces  the  shoulders,  the  forehead,  the  eyes. 
Three  narrow  :-— a  maxim  to  every  man's  taste — 
Circumference  small  in  mouth,  ankle,  and  waist. 
Three  round  : — and  in  this  I  see  infinite  charms — 
Rounded  fullness  apparent  in  leg.  hip,  and  arms. 
Three  fine  : — and  can  aught  the  enchantment  eclipse, 
Of  fine  tapering  fingers,  fine  tresses,  fine  lips  ? 
Three  small : — and  my  thirty  essentials  are  told — 
Small  head,  nose,  and  bosom  compact  in  its  mould. 
Now  the  dame  who  comprises  attractions  like  these, 
Will  need  not  the  cestus  of  Venus  to  please  : 
While  he  who  has  met  with  an  union  so  rare, 
Has  had  better  luck  than  has  fall'n  to  my  share." 

It  has  been  observed  that  God  intended  all  women  to  be 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES. 


brautifnl,  as  much  as  he  did  the  morning-glories  and  the  roses. 

Beauty  is 

"  Like  the  sweet  South, 
That  breathes  upon  a  bank  of  violets, 
Stealing,  and  giving  odor." 

Ideal  beauty,  as  well  as  beautiful  objects  of  art  and  nature, 
affect  us  with  a  sort  of  sweet  contagion.  In  the  contempla 
tion  of  a  fine  picture,  we  drink  in  the  spirit  of  beauty  through 
the  eye  ;  and  this  is  probably  the  reason  why  lovely  women 
are  occasionally  addicted  to  aesthetics — the  study  of  their 
charms  in  the  mirror. 

Milton  supposes  Eve  was  fascinated  with  her  own  charms  as 
mirrored  in  the  waters  of  Paradise,  and  her  daughters  have 
faithfully  followed  her  example,  for  they  are  seldom  disinclined 
to  contemplate  ideal  beauty  in  their  own  symmetrical  forms 
and  features.  If  the  "proper  study  of  mankind  is  man,"  why 
may  not  woman  be  allowed  a  like  privilege,  for  thereby  a 
blemish  may  be  removed  and  many  a  charm  heightened. 

The  love  of  ornament  creeps  slowly,  but  surely,  into  the 
female  heart  ;  the  girl  who  twines  the  lily  in  her  tresses,  and 
looks  at  herself  in  the  clear  stream,  will  soon  wish  that  the  lily 
was  fadeless,  and  the  stream  a  mirror.* 

Southey,  in  his  Omniana,  relates  the  following  : — "  When 
I  was  last  in  Lisbon,  a  nun  made  her  escape  from  the  nunnery. 
The  first  thing  for  which  she  inquired  when  she  reached  the 
house  in  which  she  was  to  be  secreted,  was  a  looking-glass.  She 
had  entered  the  convent  when  only  five  years  old,  and  from 
that  time  had  never  seen  her  own  face."  There  was  some 
excuse  for  her. 

A  mirror  has  been  thus  variously  described,  as  the  only 
truth-teller  in  general  favor — a  journal  in  which  Time  records 
his  travels — a  smooth  acquaintance,  but  no  flatterer.  We  may 
add,  that  it  is  the  only  tolerated  medium  of  reflection  upon 

*  Mrs.  S.  C.  Hall. 


102  SALAD   FOR  THE   SOCIAL. 


woman's  beauty,  and  the  last  discarded  ;  and  Queen  Elizabeth, 
we  learn,  did  not  desert  her  looking-glass  while  there  was  any 
vestige  left  in  the  way  of  beauty  with  which  to  regale  herself.* 

The  standards  of  beauty  in  woman  vary  with  those  of  taste. 
Socrates  called  beauty  a  short-lived  tyranny  ;  Plato,  a  privi 
lege  of  nature  ;  Thcophrastus,  a  silent  cheat  ;  Theocritus,  a 
delightful  prejudice  ;  Carneades,  a  solitary  kingdom  ;  and 
Aristotle  affirmed  that  it  was  better  than  all  the  letters  of 
recommendation  in  the  world. 

In  truth,  it  is  difficult  to  form  any  notions  of  beauty. 
Qualities  of  personal  attraction,  the  most  opposite  imaginable, 
are  each  looked  upon  as  beautiful  in  different  countries,  or  by 
different  people  in  the  same  country.  "  That  which  is  deformity 
at  Paris,  may  be  beauty  at  Pekin  ?'' 

"  Beauty,  thou  wild  fantastic  ape — 

Who  dost  iu  every  country  change  thy  shape  ; 

Here  black,  there  brown,  here  tawny,  and  there  white !'' 

The  frantic  lover  sees  "  Helen's  beauty  in  an  Egyptian 
brow."  The  black  teeth,  the  painted  eyelids,  the  plucked  eye 
brows  of  the  Chinese  fair,  have  admirers  ;  and  should  their  feet 
be  large  enough  to  walk  upon,  their  owners  are  regarded  as 
monsters  of  ugliness.  The  Lilliputian  dame  is  the  beau  ideal 
of  perfection  in  the  eyes  of  a  northern  gallant  ;  while  in  Pata 
gonia  they  have  a  Polyphemus-standard  of  beauty.  Some  of 
the  North  American  nations  tie  four  boards  round  the  heads 
of  their  children,  and  thus  squeeze  them,  while  the  bones  are 
yet  tender,  into  a  square  form.  Some  prefer  the  form  of  a 
sugarloaf  ;  others  have  a  quarrel  with  the  natural  shortness 

*  When  Queen  Elizabeth  was  far  advanced  in  life,  she  ordered  all  pictures  of  herself 
painted  by  artists  who  liad  not  flattered  her  ugliness,  to  be  collected  and  burned,  and 
in  1593  issued  a  proclamation  forbidding  all  persons  save  "  special  cunning  painters"  to 
draw  her  likeness.  She  quarrelled  at  last  with  her  looking-glass,  as  well  as  v.'ith  her 
painters.  During  the  last  years  of  her  life,  the  maids  of  honor  removed  mirrors  as  they 
would  have  removed  poison  from  the  apartments  of  royal  pride.  It  is  said  that  at  the 
time  of  her  death,  her  wardrobe  contained  more  than  two  thousand  dresses. 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES  103 


of  the  ears,  and  therefore  from  infancy  these  are  drawn  down 
upon  the  shoulders  ! 

With  the  modern  Greeks,  and  other  nations  on  the  shores  of 
the  Mediterranean,  corpulency  is  the  perfection  of  form  in  a 
woman  ;  and  those  very  attributes  which  disgust  the  western 
European,  form  the  attractions  of  an  oriental  fair.  It  was 
from  the  common  and  admired  shape  of  his  countrywomen,  that 
Rubens  in  his  pictures  delights  so  much  in  a  vulgar  and  odious 
plumpness  : — when  this  master  was  desirous  to  represent  the 
"  beautiful,"  he  had  no  idea  of  beauty  under  two  hundred 
weight.  His  very  Graces  are  all  fat.  But  it  should  be 
remembered  that  all  his  models  were  Dutch  women. 

The  hair  is  a  beautiful  ornament  of  woman,  but  it  has  always 
been  a  disputed  point  which  color  most  becomes  it.  We 
account  red  hair  an  abomination  ;  but  in  the  time  of  Elizabeth 
it  found  admirers,  and  was  in  fashion.  Mary  of  Scotland, 
though  she  had  exquisite  hair  of  her  own,  wore  red  fronts. 
Cleopatra  was  red-haired  ;  and  the  Venetian  ladies  to  this  day 
counterfeit  yellow  hair. 

Lord  Shaftesbury  asserts  that  all  beauty  is  truth.  True 
features  make  the  beauty  of  a  face  ;  and  true  proportions  the 
beauty  of  architecture  ;  as  true  measures  that  of  harmony  and 
music.  In  poetry,  which  is  all  fable,  truth  still  is  the  perfec 
tion. 

It  has  been  with  no  less  truth  observed,  that  homely  women 
are  altogether  the  best  at  heart,  head  and  soul.  A  pretty  face 
often  presides  over  a  false  heart  and  a  weak  head,  with  the 
smallest  shadow  of  a  soul. 

"  The  bombastic  misrepresentations  of  the  encomiasts  of 
Beauty,"  observed  Ayton,  "  have  exposed  her  just  claims  to  much 
odium  and  ill-will.  If  a  perfect  face  is  the  only  bait  that  can 
tempt  an  angel  from  the  skies,  he  adds,  what  is  to  be  the  recom 
pense  of  the  unfortunate  with  a  wide  mouth  and  a  turn-up 
nose  ?  The  conduct  of  men,  since  the  deluge,  has  proved) 
however,  that  love  (the  true  thing)  is  not  mere  fealty  to  a  face. 


104  SALAD      FOE     THE      SOCIAL. 


If  an  ugly  woman  of  wit  and  worth  cannot  be  loved  till  she  is 
known — a  beautiful  fool  will  cease  to  please  when  she  is  found 
out." 

In  the  words  of  a  contemporary  : — 

"  Woman  has  never  failed,  since  the  world  began,  to  illus 
trate,  in  instances,  the  glory  of  her  nature — never  ceased  to 
manifest  the  divine  in  the  human.  With  the  regal  Esther, 
yearning  to  bless  her  enslaved  kindred,  and  the  filial-love  in 
spired  daughter,  who  sustained  the  life  of  her  grey-haired  father 
through  a  prison's  bars,  there  have  not  been  parallels  wanting 
in  all  ages,  to  prove  that  the  angels  of  God  still  wander  on 
earth,  to  remind  man  of  Eden,  and  give  him  a  foretaste  of 
heaven." 

Of  such  type  of  virtue,  were  Penelope,  weaving  amid  her 
maidens  through  weary  years  the  web  that  shielded  her  virtue 
until  her  royal  husband  returned  from  his  wanderings,  and  was 
to  gladden  her  heart  ;  or,  courteous  Rebecca,  at  the  well  ;  or, 
timid  Ruth,  gleaning  in  the  field  ;  or,  nobler  still,  the  Roman 
Cornelia,  who,  taunted  in  Rome's  decaying  age  by  rivals  with 
her  poverty,  held  up  her  virtuous  children,  exclaiming — "  These 
are  my  jewels  !"  Fit  woman  to  have  been  the  "  mother  of  the 
Gracchi." 

Richter  observes,  "  A  woman's  soul  is  by  nature  a  beautiful 
fresco-painting,  painted  on  rooms,  clothes,  silver  waiters,  and 
upon  the  whole  domestic  establishment." 

Beautiful  women  may  be  admired,  but  who  can  refrain  from 
loving  the  impersonation  of  grace  and  virtue  we  every  day 
encounter  in  the  charmed  circles  of  domestic  life.  Love  is  a 
hallowed  passion  ;  it  is  angel-like — a  gleam  of  the  celestial  to 
gladden  the  dark  places  of  our  earthly  pilgrimage. 

"  She  was  a  queen  of  noble  Nature's  crowning, 
A  smile  of  hers  was  like  an  act  of  grace  ; 
She  had  no  winsome  looks,  no  pretty  frowning, 
Like  daily  beauties  of  the  vulgar  race  : 
But  if  she  smiled,  a  light  was  on  her  face  ; 


THE      TOILET     AND      ITS     DEVOTEES.  105 


A  clear,  cool  kindliness,  a  lunar  beam 
Of  peaceful  radiance,  silvering'in  the  stream, 
Of  human  thought  of  unabiding  glory, 
Not  quite  awaking  truth,  not  quite  a  dream, 
A  visitation  bright  and  transitory." 

It  is  not  the  smiles  of  a  pretty  face — the  delicate  tint  of 
complexion — the  enchanting  glance  of  the  eye — the  beauty  and 
symmetry  of  person — nor  the  costly  dress  or  decorations,  that 
compose  woman's  loveliness.  It  is  her  pleasing  deportment — 
her  chaste  conversation — the  sensibility  and  purity  of  her 
thoughts — her  affable  and  open  disposition — her  sympathy 
with  those  in  adversity — her  comforting  and  relieving  the 
afflicted  and  distressed,  and,  above  all,  the  humbleness  of  her 
soul,  that  constitute  true  loveliness. 

D'Israeli  observes,  "  It  is  at  the  foot  of  woman  we  lay  the 
laurels  that,  without  her  smile,  would  never  have  been  gained  : 
it  is  her  image  that  strings  the  lyre  of  the  poet,  that  animates 
the  voice  in  the  blaze  of  eloquent  faction,  and  guides  the  brain 
in  the  august  toils  of  stately  councils.  Whatever  may  be  the 
lot  of  man — however  unfortunate,  however  oppressed — if  he 
only  love  and  be  loved,  he  must  strike  a  balance  in  favor  of 
existence  ;  for  love  can  illumine  the  dark  roof  of  poverty,  and 
can  lighten  the  fetters  of  the  slave.' 

"  Honored  be  woman,  she  beams  on  the  sight 
Graceful  and  fair  like  a  being  of  light, 
Scatters  around  her  wherever  she  strays 
Roses  of  bliss  on  our  thorn-covered  ways, 
Roses  of  Paradise  fresh  from  above 
To  be  gathered  and  twined  in  a  garland  of  love."* 

Comets,  doubtless,  answer  some  wise  and  good  purpose 
in  the  creation  ;  so  do  women.  Comets  are  incomprehensible, 
beautiful,  and  eccentric  ;  so  are  women.  Comets  shine  with 
peculiar  splendor,  but  at  night  appear  most  brilliant ;  so  do 

*  Hood. 

5* 


]06  SALAD     FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


women.  Comets  confound  the  most  learned,  when  they 
attempt  to  ascertain  their  nature  ;  so  do  women.  Comets 
equally  excite  the  admiration  of  the  philosopher  and  of  the 
clod  of  the  valley  ;  so  do  women.  Comets  and  women,  there 
fore,  are  closely  analogous  ;  but  the  nature  of  which  being 
inscrutable,  all  that  remains  for  us  to  do  is,  to  view  with  admi 
ration  the  one,  and,  almost  to  adoration,  love  the  other.* 

It  was  probably  under  such  hallucination  that  the  following 
confession  of  returning  consciousness  was  perpetrated  : 

"  \Vhen  Eve  brought  woe  to  all  mankind, 

Old  Adam  called  her  wo-man  ; 
And  when  he  found  she  wooed  so  kind, 

He  then  pronounced  her  woo-man. 
But  now.  with  smiles  aud  artful  wiles, 

Their  husbands'  pockets  trimmin', 
The  women  are  so  full  of  whims, 

That  people  call  them  whim-men." 

An  old  author  quaintly  remarks  : — Avoid  argument  with 
ladies.  In  spinning  yarns  among  silks  and  satins  a  man  is  sure 
to  be  worsted  and  twisted.  And  when  a  man  is  worsted  and 
twisted,  he  may  consider  himself  wound  up. 

After  all  that  may  be  said  or  sung  about  it,  beauty  is  an 
undeniable  fact,  and  its  endowment  not  to  be  disparaged. 
Sidney  Smith  gives  some  good  advice  on  the  subject. 

"  Never  teach  false  morality.  How  exquisitely  absurd  to 
teach  a  girl  that  beauty  is  of  no  value,  dress  of  no  use  ! 
Beauty  is  of  value — her  whole  prospects  and  happiness  in  life 
may  often  depend  upon  a  new  gown  or  a  becoming  bonnet  ;  if 
she  has  five  grains  of  common  sense,  she  will  find  this  out.  The 
great  thing  is  to  teach  her  their  just  value,  and  that  there 
must  be  something  better  under  the  bonnet,  than  a  pretty  face, 
for  real  happiness.  But  never  sacrifice  truth." 

"  Xo  persons  have  a  more  hyperbolical  opinion  of  the  power 

*  Rymett. 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES.  107 


and  glory  of  beauty,  than  the  unelect  ;  and  hinc  ilia  lachryma  ; 
hence  undoubtedly  their  peevishness  and  spite.  If  an  ugly 
woman  of  wit  and  worth  cannot  be  loved  till  she  is  known — a 
beautiful  fool  will  cease  to  please  when  she  is  found  out.  In 
stantaneous  and  universal  admiration — the  eye-worship  of  the 
world,  is  unquestionably  the  reward  of  the  best  faces  ;  and  the 
malcontents  had  much  better  come  into  the  general  opinion 
with  a  good  grace,  than  be  making  themselves  at  once  unhappy 
and  ridiculous,  by  their  hollow  and  self-betraying  recusancy."* 
Now  an  ill-conditioned  countenance,  accompanied,  as  it  always 
is  of  course,  with  shining  abilities  and  all  the  arts  of  pleasing, 
has  this  signal  compensation — that  it  improves  under  observa 
tion,  grows  less  and  less  objectionable  the  more  you  look  into 
it  and  the  better  you  know  it,  till  it  becomes  almost  agreeable 
on  its  own  account — nay,  really  so — actually  pretty  ;  whereas 
beauty,  we  have  seen,  witless  beauty,  cannot  resist  the  test  of 
long  acquaintance,  but  declines,  as  you  gaze,  while  in  the  full 
pride  of  its  perfection  ;  "  fades  on  the  eye  and  palls  upon  the 
sense,"  with  all  its  bloom  about  it.  Young  thus  apostrophizes 
the  union  of  moral  and  physical  graces  : — 

"When  charms  of  mind, 
With  elegance  of  outward  form  are  joined  : 
When  youth  makes  such  bright  objects  still  more  bright, 
And  fortune  gets  them  in  the  strongest  light ; 
'Tis  all  of  Heaven  that  we  below  may  view, 
And  all  but  adoration  is  their  due." 

Another  authority  affirms  :  If  its  possession,  as  is  too  often 
the  case,  turns  the  head,  while  its  loss  sours  the  temper  ;  if  the 
long  regret  of  its  decay  outweighs  the  fleeting  pleasure  of  its 
bloom,  the  plain  should  rather  pity  than  envy  the  handsome. 
Beauty  of  countenance,  which,  being  the  light  of  the  soul  shin 
ing  through  the  face,  is  independent  of  features  or  complexion, 
and  is  the  most  attractive,  as  well  as  the  most  enduring  charm. 

*  Ayton's  Essays, 


108  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


Nothing  but  talent  and  amiability  can  bestow  it,  no  statue  or 
picture  can  rival,  time  itself  cannot  destroy  it. 

A  good  and  true  woman  is  said  to  resemble  a  Cremona  fiddle 
in  one  respect — age  increases  its  worth  and  sweetens  its  tone 
Gay  has  some  well-remembered  lines  apposite  to  our  point  : — 

"  What  is  the  blooming  tincture  of  the  skin, 
To  peace  of  mind  and  harmony  within  ? 
What  the  bright  sparkling  of  the  finest  eye, 
To  the  soft  soothing  of  a  calm  reply  ? 
Can  comeliness  of  form,  or  shape,  or  air, 
With  comeliness  of  words  or  deeds  compare? 
No,  those  at  first  the  unwary  heart  may  gain, 
But  these,  these  only,  can  the  heart  retain." 

Thomas  Carew  thus  apostrophizes  female  beauty  : 

"  He  that  loves  a  rosy  cheek. 

Or  a  coral  lip  admires, 
Or  from  star-like  eyes  doth  seek 

Fuel  to  maintain  his  fires, 
As  old  Time  makes  these  decay 
So  his  flames  must  waste  away  ; 
But  a  smooth  and  steadfast  mind, 

Gentle  thoughts  and  calm  desires, 
Heerts  with  equal  love  combined, 

Kindle  never-dying  fires. 
Where  these  are  not,  I  despise 
Lovely  cheeks  or  lips  or  eyes." 

Byron  also  condenses  the  same  sentiment  in  a  single  line — 
"  Heart  on  her  lips,  and  soul  within  her  eyes." 

The  last  word — eyes,  and  the  eloquent  language  they 
express — have  been  a  prolific  theme  with  the  poets.  Some  have 
dilated  on  their  brilliancy  till  they  have  been  bewildered  and 
blinded  to  all  things  else  around  them,  and  some  are  fastidious 
as  to  their  color,  size  and  expression.  One  thus  describes  the 
respective  claims  of  black  and  blue  : 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS     DEVOTEES.  109 


Black  eyes  most  dazzle  at  a  ball  : 
Blue  eyes  most  please  at  evening  fall. 
Black  a  conquest  soonest  gain  ; 
The  blue  a  conquest  most  retain  ; 
The  black  bespeak  a  lively  heart, 
"Whose  soft  emotions  soon  depart ; 
The  blue  a  steadier  flame  betray, 
That  burns  and  lives  beyond  a  day  ; 
The  black  may  features  best  disclose  ; 
In  blue  may  feelings  all  repose. 
Then  let  each  reign  without  control, 
The  black  all  mind — the  blue  all  soul. 

Leigh  Hunt  says  of  those  who  have  thin  lips,  and  are  not 
shrews  or  niggards — I  must  give  here  as  my  firm  opinion, 
founded  on  what  I  have  observed,  that  lips  become  more  or 
less  contracted  in  the  course  of  years,  in  proportion  as  they  are 
accustomed  to  express  good  humor  and  generosity,  or  peevishness 
and  a  contracted  mind.  Remark  the  effect  which  a  moment 
of  ill-humor  and  grudgingness  has  upon  the  lips,  and  judge  what 
may  be  expected  from  an  habitual  series  of  such  moments. 
Remark  the  reverse,  and  make  a  similar  judgment.  The 
mouth  is  the  frankest  part  of  the  face  ;  it  can  the  least  conceal 
its  sensations.  We  can  hide  neither  ill-temper  with  it,  nor 
good  ;  we  may  affect  what  we  please,  but  affectation  will  not 
help  us.  In  a  wrong  cause  it  will  only  make  our  observers 
resent  the  endeavor  to  impose  upon  them.  The  mouth  is  the 
seat  of  one  class  of  emotions,  as  the  eyes  are  of  another  ;  or 
rather,  it  expresses  the  same  emotions  but  in  greater  detail, 
and  with  a  more  irrepressible  tendency  to  be  in  motion.  It  is 
the  region  of  smiles  and  dimples,  and  of  trembling  tenderness  ; 
of  a  sharp  sorrow,  of  a  full  breathing  joy,  of  candor,  of  reserve, 
of  a  carking  care,  of  a  liberal  sympathy. 

There  is  a  charm  that  brighter  grows 

'Mid  beauty's  swift  decay, 
And  o'er  the  heart  a  glory  throws, 

That  will  not  fade  away. 


110  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


AVlien  beauty's  voice  and  beauty's  glance, 

The  heart  no  longer  move. 
This  holy  charm  will  still  entrance, 

And  wake  the  spirit's  love. 

Woman  may  be  said  almost  to  enjoy  the  monopoly  of  personal 
beauty.  A  good-humored  writer  thus  defines  her  position  in 
this  respect  as  contrasted  with  the  opposite  sex  : — 

If  you,  ladies,  are  much  handsomer  than  we,  it  is  but  just 
you  should  acknowledge  that  we  have  helped  you,  by  volun 
tarily  making  ourselves  ugly.  Your  superiority  in  beauty  is 
made  up  of  two  things  ;  first,  the  care  which  you  take  to 
increase  your  charms  ;  secondly,  the  zeal  which  we  have  shown 
to  heighten  them  by  the  contrast  of  our  finished  ugliness — the 
shadow  which  we  supply  to  your  sunshine. 

Your  long,  pliant,  wavy  tresses  are  all  the  more  beautiful 
because  we  cut  our  hair  short  ;  your  hands  are  all  the  whiter, 
smaller  and  more  delicate,  because  we  reserve  to  ourselves  those 
toils  and  exercises  which  make  the  hands  large  and  hard. 

"We  have  devoted  entirely  to  your  use  flowers,  feathers,  rib 
bons,  jewelry,  silks,  gold  and  silver  embroidery.  Still  more  to 
increase  the  difference  between  the  sexes,  which  is  your  greatest 
charm,  and  to  give  you  the  handsome  share,  we  have  divided 
with  you  the  hues  of  nature.  To  you  we  have  given  the  colors 
that  are  rich  and  splendid,  or  soft  and  harmonious  ;  for  our 
selves  we  have  kept  those  that  are  dark  and  dead.  We  have 
given  you  sun  and  light  ;  we  have  kept  night  and  darkness. 

We  have  monopolized  the  hard,  stony  roads  that  enlarge  the 
feet;  we  have  let  you  walk  only  on  carpets. 

Long  hair  in  woman  is  an  essential  element  of  beauty.  The 
Roman  ladies  generally  wore  it  long,  and  dressed  it  in  a  variety 
of  ways,  bedecking  it  with  gold,  silver,  pearls,  and  other  orna 
ments.  On  the  contrary,  the  men  amongst  the  Greeks  and 
Romans,  and  amongst  the  Jews  at  a  later  period,  wore  their 
hair  short,  as  may  be  collected  from  books,  medals,  statues,  and 
other  models  or  remains.  Amongst  the  Greeks  we  know  that 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES.  Ill 


both  sexes,  a  few  days  before  marriage,  cut  off  and  consecrated 
their  hair  as  an  offering  to  their  favorite  deities.  It  was  also 
customary  amongst  them  to  hang  the  hair  of  the  dead  on  the 
doors  of  their  houses  previous  to  interment.  The  ancients 
imagined  that  no  one  could  die  till  a  lock  of  hair  was  cut  off  ; 
and  this  act  they  supposed  was  performed  by  the  invisible 
hand  of  death,  or  some  other  messenger  of  the  gods. 

"  How  often  do  we  see  a  really  good  face  made  quite  ugly 
by  a  total  inattention  to  lines.  Sometimes  the  hair  is 
pushed  into  the  cheeks,  and  squared  at  the  forehead,  so  as  to 
give  a  most  extraordinary  pinched  shape  to  the  face.  Let 
the  oval,  where  it  exists,  be  always  preserved  :  where  it  does 
not,  let  the  hair  be  so  humored  that  the  deficiency  shall 
not  be  perceived.  Nothing  is  more  common  than  to  see  a  face 
which  is  somewhat  too  large  below,  made  to  look  grossly 
large  and  coarse,  by  contracting  the  hair  on  the  forehead  and 
cheek  ;  but  the  hair  should  be  made  to  fall  partially  over,  so 
as  to  shade  and  soften  off  the  lower  exuberance.  A  good 
treatise,  with  examples  in  outline  of  the  defects,  would  be  of 
some  value  upon  a  lady's  toilet,  who  would  wish  to  preserve 
her  great  privilege — the  supremacy  of  beauty.  Some  press 
the  hair  down  close  to  the  face,  which  is  to  lose  the  very  cha 
racteristic  of  hair — ease  and  freedom.  Let  her  locks,  said 
Anacreon,  lie  as  they  like  ;  the  Greek  gives  them  life  and  a 
will.  Some  ladies  wear  the  hair  like  blinkers  ;  you  always 
suspect  they  will  shy  if  you  approach  them.  A  lady's  head 
dress,  whether  in  a  portrait  or  for  her  daily  wear,  should,  as 
in  old  portraits  by  Rembrandt  and  Titian,  go  off  into  shade, 
not  to  be  seen  too  clearly,  and  hard  or  round."* 

The  custom  of  decking  the  hair  with  pearls  and  gems,  although 
not  a  modern  invention,  is  still  in  vogue  with  royalty  and 
courtly  circles  ;  yet  the  author  of  The  Honeymoon,  thus  repu 
diates  the  fashion  : 

*  Blackwood. 


112  SALAD   FOR   THE   8OCIAL. 


"  Thus  modestly  attired, 

A  half-blown  rose  stuck  in  tby  braided  hair, 
With  no  more  diamonds  than  those  eyes  are  made  of, 
No  deeper  rubies  than  compose  thy  lips, 
Nor  pearls  more  precious  than  inhabit  them  ; 
With  the  pure  red  and  white,  which  that  same  hand 
Which  blends  the  rainbow,  mingles  in  thy  cheeks  ; 
This  well-proportioned  form  (think  not  I  flatter) 
In  graceful  motion  to  harmonious  sounds, 
And  thy  free  tresses  dancing  in  the  wind, 
Thou'lt  fix  as  much  observance,  as  chaste  dames 
Can  meet,  without  a  blush." 

The  Roman  patrician  ladies  had  from  two  to  three  hundred 
slaves  chiefly  appointed  to  attend  their  persons.  Their  hair 
used  to  be  perfumed  and  powdered  with  gold  dust. 

"  Of  all  the  articles  of  luxury  and  ostentation  known  to  the 
Romans,  pearls  seem  to  have  been  the  most  esteemed.  They 
were  worn  on  all  parts  of  the  dress,  and  such  was  the  diversity 
of  their  size,  purity,  and  value,  that  they  were  found  to  suit 
all  classes,  from  those  of  moderate  to  those  of  the  most  colossal 
fortune.  The  famous  pearl  earrings  of  Cleopatra  are  said  to 
have  been  worth  about  £160,000,  and  Julius  Caesar  is  said  to 
have  presented  Servilia,  the  mother  of  Brutus,  with  a  pearl  for 
which  he  bad  paid  above  £48,000  ;  and  though  no  reasonable 
doubt  can  be  entertained  in  regard  to  the  extreme  exaggeration 
of  these  and  similar  statements,  the  fact  that  the  largest  and 
finest  pearls  brought  immense  prices  is  beyond  all  question. 
It  has  been  said  that  the  wish  to  become  master  of  the  pearls 
with  which  it  was  supposed  to  abound,  was  one  of  the  motives 
which  induced  Julius  Caesar  to  invade  Britain.  But,  though  a 
good  many  were  met  with  in  various  parts  of  the  country,  they 
were  of  little  or  no  value,  being  small  and  ill-colored.  After 
pearls  and  diamonds,  the  emerald  held  the  highest  place  in 
the  estimation  of  the  Romans."* 

In  France,  during  the  reign  of  Louis  XIY.  the  use  of  dia- 

*  M'Culloch. 


THE     TOILET     AND      ITS     DEVOTEES.  113 


monds  revived.  Robes  were  embroidered  with  them,  and 
besides  necklaces,  aigrettes,  and  bracelets,  they  were  employed 
to  ornament  the  stomachers,  shoulders,  waistbands,  and  skirts 
of  the  dress.  This  costly  fashion  subsided  about  the  end  of 
the  French  Revolution. 

The  favorites  of  fortune  are  too  frequently  the  servile  vota 
ries  of  fashion  ;  and  this  passion  for  dress  entails  many  social 
evils.  While  it  fosters  imperious  pride  in  its  victim,  it  destroys 
all  the  finer  sensibilities  of  our  nature.  The  gentle  hand  of 
charity,  that  ministers  to  the  children  of  want,  belongs  not  to 
the  flaunting  lady  of  fashion  ;  her  ambition  is  rather  to  dazzle 
and  bewilder  the  gazing,  thoughtless  multitude — to  become  the 
"  cynosure  of  all  eyes."  To  the  reflective  mind,  such  a 
spectacle  is  suggestive  of  emotions  far  opposite  to  those  of 
pleasure.  To  such  the  luxury  of  doing  good  is  unknown  ;  for 
their  benefactions,  instead  of  being  diffusive,  are  directed 
exclusively  to  self.  Self  is  the  idol  they  adore  and  worship  ; 
it  is  idolatry  of  the  worst  type,  and  the  most  to  be  deprecated 
by  noble  minds. 

"  There  are  certain  moralists  in  the  world,  who  labor  under 
the  impression  that  it  is  no  matter  what  people  wear,  or  how 
they  put  on  their  apparel.  Such  people  cover  themselves  up — 
they  do  not  dress.  No  one  doubts  that  the  mind  is  more 
important  than  the  body,  the  jewel  than  the  setting  ;  and 
yet  the  virtue  of  the  one  and  the  brilliancy  of  the  other  is 
enhanced  by  the  mode  in  which  they  are  presented  to  the 
senses.  Let  a  woman  have  every  virtue  under  the  sun,  if 
she  is  slatternly,  or  even  inappropriate  in  her  dress,  her  merits 
will  be  more  than  half  obscured.  If,  being  young,  she  is  untidy, 
or,  being  old,  fantastic,  or  slovenly,  her  mental  qualifications 
stand  a  chance  of  being  passed  over  with  indifference."* 

A  right  loyal  scribe  thus  enacts  the  champiou  for  beauty  : 
Plain  women  were  formerly  so  common  that  they  were  termed 
ordinary,  to  signify  the  frequency  of  their  occurrence  ;  in  these 

*  Chambers. 


114  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


happier  days  the  phrase  extraordinary  would  be  more  appli 
cable.  However  parsimonious,  or  even  cruel,  Nature  may  have 
been  in  other  respects,  they  all  cling  to  admiration  by  some 
solitary  tenure  that  redeems  them  from  the  unqualified  imputa 
tion  of  uuattractiveness.  One  has  an  eye  that,  like  Charity, 
covers  a  multitude  of  sins  ;  another  is  a  female  Samson,  whose 
strength  consists  in  her  hair  ;  a  third  holds  your  affections  by 
her  teeth ;  a  fourth  is  a  Cinderella,  who  wins  hearts  by  her 
pretty  little  foot  ;  a  fifth  makes  an  irresistible  appeal  from  her 
face  to  her  figure,  and  so  on  to  the  end  of  the  catalogue.  An 
expressive  countenance  may  always  be  claimed  in  the  absence 
of  any  definite  charm  ;  if  even  this  be  questionable,  the  party 
generally  contrives  to  get  a  reputation  for  great  cleverness  ; 
and  if  that  too  be  inhumanly  disputed,  envy  itself  must  allow 
that  she  is  "  excessively  amiable." 

Countenance,  however,  is  not  within  the  reach  of  any  of 
these  substances  or  combinations.  It  is  a  species  of  moral 
beauty,  as  superior  to  mere  charm  of  surface  as  mind  is  to 
matter.  It  is,  in  fact,  visible  spirit,  legible  intellect,  diffusing 
itself  over  the  features,  and  enabling  minds  to  commune  with 
each  other  by  some  secret  sympathy  unconnected  with  the 
senses.  The  heart  has  a  silent  echo  in  the  face,  which  fre 
quently  carries  to  us  a  conviction  diametrically  opposite  to  the 
audible  expressions  of  the  mouth  ;  and  we  see  through  the 
eyes  into  the  understanding,  long  before  it  can  communicate 
with  us  by  utterance.  This  emanation  of  character  is  the 
light  of  soul  irradiating  the  countenance,  as  the  sun  illu 
mines  the  face  of  nature  before  he  rises  above  the  earth  to 
commence  his  celestial  career.  Of  this  indefinable  charm,  all 
women  are  alike  susceptible  :  it  is  to  them  what  gunpowder  is 
to  warriors,  it  levels  all  distinctions,  and  gives  to  the  plain  and 
the  pretty,  to  the  timid  and  the  brave,  an  equal  chance  of 
making  conquests. 

Of  course,  the  immediate  effect  of  a  well-chosen  feminine 
toilet  operates  differently  in  different  minds.  In  some  it  causes 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES.  115 


a  sense  of  actual  pleasure  ;  in  others,  a  consciousness  of  pas 
sive  enjoyment.  In  some,  it  is  intensely  felt  while  it  is  present; 
in  others,  only  missed  when  it  is  gone. 

Beauty  is  the  flowering  of  virtue.  The  true  art  of  assisting 
beauty  consists  in  embellishing  the  whole  person  by  the  proper 
ornaments  of  virtuous  and  commendable  qualities.  By  this 
help  alone  it  is,  that  those  who  are  the  favorites  of  Nature 
become  animated,  and  are  in  a  capacity  for  exerting  their 
influence  ;  and  those  who  seem  to  have  been  neglected  by  her, 
like  models  wrought  in  haste,  are  capable,  in  a  great  measure, 
of  finishing  what  she  has  left  imperfect. 

Chevreul  remarks  :  "  Drapery  of  a  lustreless  white,  such  as 
cambric  muslin,  assorts  well  with  a  fresh  complexion,  of  which 
it  relieves  the  rose  color  ;  but  it  is  unsuitable  to  complexions 
which  have  a  disagreeable  tint,  because  white  always  exalts 
all  colors  by  raising  their  tone  ;  consequently,  it  is  unsuitable 
to  those  skins  which,  without  having  this  disagreeable  tint, 
very  nearly  approach  it.  Very  light  white  draperies,  such  as 
point  lace,  have  an  entirely  different  aspect.  Black  draperies, 
lowering  the  tone  of  the  colors  with  which  they  are  in  juxta 
position,  whiten  the  skin  ;  but  if  the  vermilion  or  rosy  parts 
are  to  a  certain  point  distant  from  the  drapery,  it  will  follow 
that,  although  lowered  in  tone,  they  appear  relatively  to  the 
white  parts  of  the  skin  contiguous  to  this  same  drapery,  redder 
than  if  the  contiguity  to  the  black  did  not  exist." 

Some  ingenious  gallant  has  taxed  his  skill  in  stringing  toge 
ther  some  valuable  cosmetics,  and,  as  they  may  prove  service 
able  to  a  lady's  toilet,  we  introduce  them  : 

THE  ENCHANTED  MIRROR — Self  Knowledge. 
This  curious  glass  will  bring  your  faults  to  light, 
And  make  your  virtues  sbine  both  strong  and  bright. 

WASH  TO  SMOOTH  WRINKLES — Contentment. 
A  daily  portion  of  this  essence  use, 
'Twill  smooth  the  brow,  tranquillity  infuse. 


116  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


FIXE  LIP  SALVE — Truth. 

Use  daily  for  your  lips  this  precious  dye, 
They'll  redden  and  breathe  sweeter  melody. 

MIXTURE  GIVING  SWEETNESS  TO  THE  VOICE — Prayer. 

At  morning,  noon,  and  night  this  mixture  take, 
Your  tones  improved  will  richer  music  make. 

BEST  EVE-WATER — Compassion . 

These  drops  will  add  great  lustre  to  the  eye  ; 
When  more  you  need,  the  poor  will  you  supply. 

SOLUTION  TO  PREVENT  ERUPTIONS — Wisdom. 

It  calms  the  temper,  beautifies  the  face, 
Aud  gives  to  woman  dignity  and  grace. 

MATCHLESS  PAIR  OF  EAR-RINGS — Attention  and  Obedience. 

With  these  clear  drops  appended  to  the  ear, 
Attentive,  lessons  you  will  gladly  hear. 

INDISPENSABLE  PAIR  OF  BRACELETS — Neatness  and  Industry. 

Clasp  them  on  carefully  each  day  you  live, 
To  good  designs  they  efficacy  give. 

AN  ELASTIC  GIRDLE — Patience. 

The  more  you  use,  the  brighter  it  will  grow. 
Though  its  least  merit  is  external  show. 

RING  OF  TRIED  GOLD — Principle. 

Yield  not  this  golden  bracelet  while  you  live, 
'Twill  both  restrain  and  peace  of  conscience  give. 

NECKLACE  OF  PUREST  PEARL — Resignation. 

This  ornament  embellishes  the  fair, 
And  teaches  all  the  ills  of  life  to  bear. 

DIAMOND  BKEAST-PIN — Love. 

Adorn  your  bosom  with  this  precious  pin, 
It  shines  without  and  warms  the  heart  within. 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES.  119 


her  head,  and  seems  to  take  a  wonderful  deal  of  pleasure  and 
pride  in  seeing  it  drag  behind  her,  like  the  train  of  a  court 
robe." 

Fashion,  the  veriest  despot  in  her  decrees,  arbitrates 
through  the  agency  of  her  devotees — the  milliner,  the  modiste, 
and  the  tailor — the  style  and  manner  of  one's  habiliments;  and 
so  absolute  is  her  sway  in  this  matter,  that  it  is  difficult  per 
haps,  to  indicate  any  class  that  may  boast  exemption  from  her 
jurisdiction. 

Fashion  rules  the  world,  and  a  most  tyrannical  mistress  she 
is — compelling  people  to  submit  to  the  most  inconvenient 
things  imaginable,  for  her  sake. 

She  pinches  our  feet  with  tight  shoes — or  chokes  us  with  a 
tight  handkerchief,  or  squeezes  the  breath  out  of  our  bodies  by 
tight  lacing  ;  she  makes  people  sit  up  by  night  when  they 
ought  to  be  in  bed,  and  keeps  them  in  bed  when  they  ought  to 
be  up.  She  makes  it  vulgar  to  wait  on  one's  self,  and  genteel 
to  live  idle  and  useless.  She  makes  people  visit  when  they 
would  rather  be  at  home  ;  eat  when  they  are  not  hungry,  and 
drink  when  they  are  not  thirsty.  She  invades  our  pleasure, 
and  interrupts  our  business.  She  compels  people  to  dress  gaily 
— whether  upon  their  own  property  or  that  of  others.  She 
ruins  health  and  produces  sickness — destroys  life  and  occasions 
premature  death.  She  makes  foolish  parents,  invalids  of 
children,  and  servants  of  us  all.  She  is  a  tormentor  of  con 
science,  despoiler  of  morality,  an  enemy  to  religion,  and  no  one 
can  be  her  companion  and  enjoy  either.  She  is  a  despot  of 
the  highest  grade,  full  of  intrigue  and  cunning — and  yet 
husbands,  wives,  fathers,  mothers,  sons,  daughters,  and  servants, 
all  strive  to  see  who  shall  be  most  obsequious.  Fashion  obtains 
in  all  countries — there  being  ever  some  Beau  Brummells  at 
hand  to  issue  her  mandates  and  illustrate  her'  protean  shapes 
and  endless  metamorphoses. 

"  Oh,  Fashion  !  it  were  vain  indeed 

To  try  your  wondrous  flights  to  follow  : 


120  SALAD     FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


Onward  at  such  a  pace  you  speed, 

Beating  the  Belle  Jlsscmblce  hollow. 
One  moment  hovering  in  our  coats 

To  change  the  cutting  of  the  skirts  : 
Then  with  rude  grasp  you  seize  our  throats, 

Altering  the  collars  of  our  shirts. 
Now  trimming  up  with  ribbons  gay, 

And  flowers  as  well,  a  lady's  bonnet ; 
Then  with  rash  hand  tearing  away 

Each  bit  of  finery  upon  it. 
Shrouding  one  day  the  arm  from  sight, 

In  sleeve  so  large  that  six  might  share  it ; 
And  making  it  next  month  so  tight, 

'Tis  scarcely  possible  to  bear  it. 
Upon  a  lady's  dress  again, 

With  arbitrary  hand  it  pounces, 
Making  it  one  day  meanly  plain, 

Then  idly  loading  it  with  flounces." 

There  are  few  things  that  have  not  been  done,  and  few  things 
that  have  not  been  worn,  under  the  sanction  of  fashion.  What 
could  exhibit  a  more  fantastical  appearance  than  an  English 
beau  of  the  fourteenth  century  ?  He  wore  long,  pointed  shoes, 
fastened  to  his  knee  by  gold  or  silver  chains  ;  hose  of  one  color 
oil  one  leg,  and  another  color  on  the  other  ;  a  coat,  the 
one  half  white,  and  the  other  black  or  blue  ;  a  long  silk  hood, 
buttoned  under  his  chin,  embroidered  with  grotesque  figures  of 
animals,  dancing  men,  &c.  This  dress  was  the  height  of  the 
mode  in  the  reign  of  Edward  III.  In  view  of  such  facts,  shall 
we  upbraid  woman  for  her  vanity  and  love  of  finery  ? 

Leigh  Hunt  informs  us  that  fashions  have  a  short  life  or 
a  long  one,  according  as  it  suits  the  makers  to  startle  us  with 
a  variety,  or  save  themselves  observation  of  a  defect.  Hence 
fashions  set  by  young  or  handsome  people  arc  fugitive,  and  such 
are  usually  those  that  bring  custom  to  the  milliner. 

The  Edinburgh  Review  observes  :  "Peculiarities  of  dress, 
even  amounting  to  foppery,  so  common  among  eminent  men,  are 
carried  off  from  ridicule  by  ease  in  some,  or  stateliness  in  others. 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES.  121 


We  may  smile  at  Chatham,  scrupulously  crowned  in  his  best 
wig,  if  intending  to  speak  ;  at  Erskine,  drawing  on  his  bright 
yellow  gloves,  before  he  rose  to  plead  ;  at  Iloracv-  Walpole,  in 
a  cravat  of  Gibbon's  carvings  ;  at  Raleigh  loading  his  shoes 
with  jewels  so  heavy  that  he  could  scarcely  walk  ;  at  Petrarch, 
pinching  his  feet  till  he  crippled  them  ;  fit  the  rings  which 
covered  the  philosophical  fingers  of  Aristotle  ;  at  the  bare 
throat  of  Byron  ;  the  Armenian  dress  of  Rou«seuu  ;  the  scarlet 
and  gold  coat  of  Yoltuire  ;  or  the  prud&ut  carefulness  with 
which  Caasar  scratched  his  head,  ?o  as  not  io  disuirb  the  locks 
arranged  over  the  bald  place.  But  most  of  these  men,  we 
apprehend,  found  it  easy  to  enforce  respect  u;u!  curb  imper 
tinence. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  enter  upon  the  details  of  a  subject 
so  copious  in  its  historic  data  :  nor  car,  we  attempt  to  go  into 
a  minute  examination  of  the  prodigal  magnificence  of  the  ward 
robe  of  distinguished  personages,  but  must  confine  our  remarks 
to  the  present  fashion,  the  most  prominent  feature  of  which  is 
the  number  and  depth  of  flounces. 

A  writer  in  the  London  Quarterly-,  likes  them  when  they 
wave  and  flow,  as  in  a  very  light  material — muslin,  or  gauze, 
or  barege — when  a  lady  has  no  outline  and  uo  mass,  but  looks 
like  a  receding  angel,  or  a  "  dissolving  view,"  but  he  does  not 
like  them  in  a  rich  material,  where  they  flop,  or  in  a  stiff  one 
where  they  bristle  ;  and  where  they  break  the  flowing  lines  of 
the  petticoat,  and  throw  light  and  shade  where  you  do  not 
expect  them  to  exist. 

The  amply-folding  robe,  cast  round  the  harmonious  form  ; 
the  modest  clasp  and  zone  on  the  bosom  ;  the  braided  hair,  or 
the  veiled  head  ;  these  were  the  fashions  alike  of  the  wife  of  a 
Phocion  and  the  mistress  of  an  Alcibiades.  A  chastened  taste 
ruled  at  their  toilets  ;  and  from  that  hour  to  this,  the  forms 
and  modes  of  Greece  have  been  those  of  the  poet,  the  sculptor, 
and  the  painter. 

The  flowing  robe,  the  easy  shape,  the  soft,  unfettered  hair, 

6 


122  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


gave  place  to  skirts  shortened  for  flight  or  contest — to  the 
hardened  vest,  and  head  buckled  in  gold  or  silver. 

Thence,  by  a  natural  descent,  we  have  the  iron  bodice,  stiff 
farthingale,  and  spiral  coiffure  of  the  middle  ages.  The  courts 
of  Charlemagne,  of  Edward,  Henry  and  Elizabeth,  all  exhibit 
the  figures  of  women  as  if  in  a  state  of  siege.  Such 
lines  of  circumvallation  and  outwork  ;  such  impregnable  bul 
warks  of  whalebone,  wood,  and  steel  ;  such  impassable  mazes  of 
gold,  silver,  silk,  and  furbelows,  met  a  man's  view,  that,  before 
he  had  time  to  guess  it  was  a  woman  that  he  saw,  she  had 
passed  from  his  sight;  and  he  only  formed  a  vague  wish  on  the 
subject,  by  hearing,  from  an  interested  father  or  brother,  that 
the  moving  castle  was  one  of  the  softer  sex. 

These  preposterous  fashions  disappeared  in  England  a  short 
time  after  the  Restoration  : 

"  What  thought,  what  various  numbers  can  express, 
The  inconstant  equipage  of  woman's  dress?" 

Kar  thus  designates  the  epochs  of  a  woman's  life  : — 
Dress  is  the  great  business  of  all  women,  and  the  fixed  idea 
of  some.  Thus,  every  event  in  their  lives  has  a  change  of  dress 
for  its  result,  and  often  for  its  cause.  In  this  way,  dresses 
divide  a  woman's  existence  into  an  infinite  number  of  eras  and 
hegiras.  Such  a  thing  happened  at  the  time  when  she  had 
her  purple  velvet  dress  ;  such  another  when  she  bought  her 
pink  satin. 

Herrick  has  some  sweet  lines  about  a  lady's  costume,  which 
claim  insertion  here  :— 

"  A  sweet  disorder  in  the  drcssc, 
Kindles  in  cloaths  a  wantonesse, 
A  lawne  about  the  shoulders  throwne, 
Into  a  fine  distraction  ; 
An  erring  lace,  which  here  and  there, 
Enthral  the  crimson  stomacher  ; 
A  cuffo  neglectful,  and  thereby 
Ribbands  to  fly  confusedly  ; 


THE      TOILET      AXD      ITS      DEVOTEES.  123 


A  winning  wave  (deserving  note) 

In  the  tempestuous  petticoat  : 

A  careless  shoe-string  in  whose  tye 

I  see  a  wilde  civility, 

Does  more  bewitche  me,  than  when  art 

Is  too  precise  in  every  part." 

It  is  not  so  much  the  richness  of  the  material  as  the  way  it 
is  made  up,  and  the  manner  in  which  it  is  worn,  that  give  the 
desired  elegance.  A  neat  fit,  a  graceful  bearing,  and  a  proper 
harmony  between  the  complexion  and  the  colors,  have  more  to 
do  with  heightening  female  attractions  than  many  are  willing 
to  believe.  "  Many  a  wife  looks  prettier,  if  she  did  but  know 
it,  in  her  neat  morning  frock  of  calico,  than  in  the  incongruous 
pile  of  finery  which  she  dignifies  with  the  title  of  full  dress. 
Many  an  unmarried  female  first  wins  the  heart  of  her  future 
husband  in  some  simple,  unpretending  attire,  which,  if  consulted 
about,  she  would  pronounce  too  cheap  except  for  ordinary 
wear,  but  which,  by  its  accidental  suitability  to  her  figure, 
face,  and  carriage,  idolize  her  youth  wonderfully.  If  the  sex 
would  study  taste  in  dress  more,  and  care  less  for  costliness, 
they  would  have  no  reason  to  regret  it." 

Attention  to  a  few  general  rules  would  prevent  a  great 
many  anomalous  appearances  :  for  instance,  <%  a  woman  should 
never  be  dressed  too  little,  nor  a  girl  too  much — nor  should  a 
woman  of  small  stature  attempt  large  patterns,  nor  a  bad 
walker  flounces—  nor  a  short  throat  carry  feathers,  nor  high 
shoulders  a  shawl.  From  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  there  is 
not  a  single  style  of  beauty  with  which  the  plain  straw  hat  is 
not  upon  the  best  understanding.  It  refines  the  homeliest 
and  composes  the  wildest — it  gives  the  coquettish  young  lady 
a  little  dash  of  demureness,  and  the  demure  one  a  slight  touch 
of  coquetry — it  makes  the  blooming  beauty  look  more  fresh, 
and  the. pale  one  more  interesting — it  makes  the  plain  woman 
look,  at  all  events,  a  lady,  and  the  lady  more  lady-like  still.'' 
Bonnets,  too,  are  an  index  of  character.  Some  wag  has  fur 
nished  the  following  "  Recipe  for  a  Bonnet,"  free  of  cost 


124  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


"  Two  scraps  of  foundation,  some  fragments  of  lace, 
A  shower  of  French  rosebuds  to  droop  o'er  the  f;ice  ; 
Fine  ribbons  and  feathers,  with  crape  and  illusion, 
Then  mix  and  t/e-range  them  in  graceful  confusion  ; 
Inveigle  some  fairy,  out  roaming  for  pleasure, 
And  beg  the  flight  favor  of  taking  her  measure  : 
The  length  and  breadth  of  her  dear  little  pate, 
And  hasten  a  miniature  frame  to  create  ; 
Then  pour,  as  above,  the  bright  mixture  upon  it, 
And  lo !  you  possess  '  such  a  love  of  a  bonnet.'  " 

To  instance  the  broad  national  characteristics  of  costume,  we 
find  their  several  peculiarities  in  the  Chinese,  the  Swiss,  French, 
English,  Russian,  Turk  and  Greek  ;  as  well  as  the  Laplander,  the 
Tartar  and  Indian,  which  last  is  remarkable,  like  that  of  most 
savage  nations,  for  its  paucity.  Charles  II.,  Gustavus  of 
Sweden,  Napoleon,  and  other  monarchs,  issued  their  edicts  for 
the  regulation  of  court  costumes.  The  love  of  gay  and  gaudy 
attire  is  a  passion  not  exclusively  a  weakness  incident  to  the 
fair  sex,  notwithstanding  an  ancient  writer  has  defined  woman 
to  be  "  an  animal  that  delights  in  finery" — a  fact,  however,  that 
cannot  be  questioned  if  we  appeal  to  the  history  of  the  past  in 
all  conditions  of  society.  In  searching  for  some  of  the  absurd 
ities  of  the  toilet,  we  meet  with  the  following.  The  ladies  of 
Japan  are  said  to  gild  their  teeth,  and  those  of  the  Indies  to 
paint  them  red,  while  in  Guzurat  the  test  of  beauty  is  to  render 
them  sable.  In  Greenland,  the  women  used  to  color  their  faces 
with  blue  and  yellow.  The  Chinese  must  torture  their  feet  into 
the  smallest  possible  dimensions — a  proof  positive  of  their  con 
tracted  understandings.  The  ancient  Peruvians,  and  some  of 
our  Indian  tribes,  used  to  flatten  their  heads  :  and  among 
other  nations,  the  mothers,  in  a  similar  way,  maltreat  the  noses 
of  their  offspring. 

Rings  are  of  remote  origin;  their  use  is  mentioned  by  many 
of  the  classic  writers,  and  also  in  the  Scriptures  :  they  were 
worn  by  the  ancient  Gauls  and  Britons  on  the  middle  finger, 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES.  125 


and  by  the  Greeks  on  the  fourth  of  the  left  hand,  on  the  supposi 
tion  that  this  finger  communicated  by  a  small  nerve  with  the 
heart.  The  wedding-ring  is  supposed  to  be  of  heathen  origin. 
An  old  Latin  work,  which  ascribes  the  invention  of  a  ring  to 
Tubal  Cain,  contains  the  following:  "The  form  of  the  ring 
being  circular,  that  is,  round  and  without  end,  importeth  thus 
much  :  that  their  mutual  love  and  hearty  affection  should 
roundly  How  from  one  to  the  other  as  in  a  circle — and  that 
continually  and  for  ever." 

The  armlet  or  bracelet  is  also  of  equal  antiquity  ;  its 
adoption  is  referred  to  in  the  24th  chapter  of  Genesis.  Both 
were  in  vogue  with  the  Sabine  women,  and  of  a  very  massive 
kind  :  they  were  worn  as  tokens  of  valor  by  warriors,  also 
among  the  Romans.  Ear-rings,  or,  as  they  were  formerly  styled, 
pendants,  are  worn  by  most  nations,  and,  in  many  instances, 
by  both  sexes.  In  the  East  Indies  they  are  unusually  large, 
and  are  generally  of  gold  and  jewels.  The  Sandwich  Islanders 
push  the  fashion  to  its  utmost  extent;  they  enlarge  the  incision 
to  such  a  degree,  by  the  excessive  weight  of  their  ear-rings, 
that  the  ear  is  sometimes  dragged  down  to  the  waist.  Of  head 
dresses,  the  earliest  kind  upon  record  seems  to  have  been  the 
tiara  ;  the  caul  is  also  mentioned,  in  Holy  Writ,  as  having 
been  in  vogue  in  primitive  times.  It  was  usually  made  of  net 
work,  of  gold  or  silk,  and  enclosed  all  the  hair.  Some  of 
the  various  items  of  a  lady's  wardrobe  it  will  not  be  our  venture 
to  dilate  upon  :  we  may,  however,  just  refer  to  the  corsets  or 
stays.  Tradition,  insists  that  corsets  were  first  invented  by  a 
brutal  butcher  of  the  thirteenth  century,  as  a  punishment  for 
his  wife.  She  was  very  loquacious,  and,  finding  nothing  would 
cure  her,  he  put  a  pair  of  stays  on  her,  in  order  to  take  away 
her  breath,  and  so  prevent  her,  as  he  thought,  from  talking. 
This  cruel  punishment  was  inflicted  by  other  heartless  husbands, 
till  at  last  there  was  scarcely  a  wife  in  all  London  who  was 
not  condemned  to  the  like  infliction.  The  punishment  became 
so  universal  at  last  that  the  ladies  in  their  defence  made  a 


12G  SALAD   FOR   THE   SOCIAL. 


fashion  of  it,  and  so  it  has  continued  to  the  present  day.  The 
i'air  sex  of  our  own  day  seem  economic  in  this  respect,  for, 
however  prodigal  they  may  be  in  other  matters,  they  are  for  the 
least  possible  waist.  Sceiuuieriug  enumerates  a  catalogue  of 
ninety-six  diseases  resulting  from  this  stringent  habit  among 
them:  many  of  the  most  frightful  maladies  that  flesh  is  heir  to, 
cancer,  asthma,  and  consumption,  are  among  them.  Such 
unnatural  compression,  moreover,  seems  to  indicate  a  very 
limited  scope  for  the  play  of  the  affections,  for  what  room  is 
there  for  any  heart  at  all  ?  As  if  to  atone  for  brevity  of 
waist,  the  ladies  now  indulge  in  an  amplitude  of  skirt. 
The  merry  dames  of  Elizabeth's  court,  in  a  wild  spirit  of 
fun,  adopted  the  fashion  of  hideously-deforming  farthingales 
to  ridicule  the  enormous  trunk-hose  woru  by  gentlemen  of  that 
period — determined,  if  not  successful  in  shaming  away  the 
absurdity  altogether,  at  least  to  have  a  preposterous  con 
trivance  of  their  own.  The  idea  was  full  of  woman's  wit.  But, 
alas  !  they  were  caught  in  their  own  snare.  Precious  stones 
were  profusely  displayed  on  the  bodices  and  skirts  of  brocade 
gowns,  and  vanity  soon  discovered  that  the  stiff  whalebone 
framework  under  the  upper  skirt  formed  an  excellent  show 
case  for  family  jewels.  The  passion  thus  gratified,  the  farthin 
gale  at  once  became  the  darling  of  court  costume,  and  in  its 
original  shape  continued  in  feminine  favor  till  the  reign  of 
Queen  Anne,  when  it  underwent  the  modification  lately  revived 
for  us — the  Hoop.  In  vain  did  the  spectator  lash  and  ridicule 
by  turns  the  "unnatural  disguisernent ;"  in  vain  did  grossest 
caricsttures  appear  and  wits  exhaust  their  invention  in  lampoons 
and  current  epigrams  ;  in  vain  even  the  publication  of  a  grave 
pamphlet,  entitled  The.  Enormous  Abomination  of  the,  Hoop 
Petticoat,  as  the  Fashion  now  is;  the  mode,  for  once  immuta 
ble,  stands  on  the  page  of  folly  an  enduring  monument  of 
feminine  persistency. 

Encouraged  by  the  prolonged  and  undisputed  sway  of  the 
farthingale,  the  hoop  maintained  an  absolute  supremacy  through 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES.  127 


the  three  succeeding1  reigns,  though  ofteu  undergoing  changes 
which  only  served  to  make  it  more  and  more  ridiculous.  The 
most  ludicrous  of  these. alterations  were  the  triangular-shaped 
hoops,  which,  according  to  the  Spectator,  gave  a  lady  all  the 
appearance  of  being  in  a  go-cart  ;  and  the  "  pocket-hoops," 
which  looked  like  nothing  so  much  as  panniers  on  the  side  of  a 
donkey — we  mean  the  quadruped.  Quite  a  funny  incident  is 
related  by  Bulwer  about  the  wife  of  an  English  ambassador 
to  Constantinople,  in  the  time  of  James  I.  The  lady,  attended 
by  her  serving-women,  all  attired  in  enormous  farthingales, 
waited  npon  the  sultana,  who  received  them  with  every  show 
of  respect  and  hospitality.  Soon,  however,  the  woman's 
curiosity  got  the  better  of  her  courtesy,  and  expressing  her 
great  surprise  at  the  monstrous  development  of  their  hips,  she 
asked  if  it  were  possible  that  such  could  be  the  shape  peculiar 
to  the  women  of  England.  The  English  lady  in  reply  hastened 
to  assure  her  that  their  forms  in  nowise  differed  from  those  of 
the  women  of  other  countries,  and  carefully  demonstrated  to 
her  Highness  the  construction  of  their  dress,  which  alone 
bestowed  the  appearance  so  puzzling  to  her.  There  could 
scarcely  be  a  more  wholesome  satire  upon  the  absurd  fashion 
than  is  conveyed  in  the  simple  recital  of  this  well-authenticated 
anecdote. 

It  will  be  readily  understood  that  at  the  outset  the  English 
ladies  had  a  plausible  excuse  for  adopting  this  deformity  ;  if 
they  were  betrayed  into  the  permanent  establishment  of  it  by 
the  very  pardonable  inducement  of  a  gratified  vanity,  we  may 
pity  their  weakness  but  can  scarcely  condemn  ;  aud  in  the 
proud  reign  of  the  hoops  through  a  period  of  unsparing  ridicule 
we  are  quite  forced  to  admire  the  unflinching  tenacity  with 
which  they  were  adhered  to,  much  as  we  may  deplore  the 
perverted  taste  which  could  at  any  time  have  consented  to 
their  introduction.  But  what  excuse  can  be  offered,  what 
palliating  circumstance  advanced,  to  justify  a  revival  of  that 
abomination  by  the  ladies  of  the  nineteenth  century — not 


128  8  A  L  A  I)      K  0  It      T  UK      S  O  0  I   A   I,  . 


betrayed  into  its  adoption  on  the  score  of  novelty,  but  deliber 
ately  dragging  it  out  from  the  dusty  past  \vith  all  the  accumu 
lated  ridicule  of  ages  flinging  to  its  skirts  ?* 

In  the  early  ages  of  Christianity,  gloves  were  a  par!  of 
monastic  custom,  and,  in  later  periods,  formed  a  part  of  the 
episcopal  habit.  The  glove  was  employed  by  princes  as  a  token 
of  investiture  ;  and  to  deprive  a  person  of  his  gloves  was  a 
mark  of  divesting  him  of  his  office.  Throwing  down  a  glove 
constituted  a  challenge,  and  the  taking  it  up  an  acceptance. 

Fans  have  become,  in  many  countries,  so  necessary  an 
appendage  of  the  toilet  with  both  sexes,  tHat  a  word  respecting 
them  in  this  place,  seems  demanded.  The  use  of  them  was  first 
discovered  in  the  East,  where  the  heat  suggested  their  utility. 
In  the  Greek  Church,  a  fan  is  placed  in  the  hands  of  the 
deacons,  in  the  ceremony  of  their  ordination,  in  allusion  to  a 
part  of  their  office  in  that  church,  which  is  to  keep  the  (lies  off 
the  priests  during  the  celebration  of  the  sacrament.  In  Japan, 
where  neither  men  nor  women  wear  hats,  except  as  a  protection 
against  rain,  a  fan  is  to  be  seen  in  the  hand  or  the  girdle  of 
every  inhabitant.  Visitors  receive  dainties  offered  them  upon 
their  fans  :  the  beggar,  imploring  charity,  holds  out  his  fan 
for  the  alms  his  prayers  may  obtain.  In  England,  this  seem 
ingly  indispensable  article  was  almost  unknown  till  the  age  of 
Elizabeth.  During  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  they  became 
pretty  generally  used.  At  the  present  day,  they  are  in 
universal  requisition.  Hats  and  bonnets  are  of  remote 
antiquity  :  it  is  difficult  to  say  when  they  took  their  rise.  Of 
boots,  and  shoes — those  coverings  for  the  extremities — we  do 
not  feel  in  the  humor  to  discourse,  since  everybody  knows 
sufficient  about  them,  by  practical  experience,  nor  are  they 
subject  to  so  many  absurd  changes  and  metamorphoses.  Of 
perfumeries,  also,  little  need  be  said  ;  they  were  always,  like 
flowers,  artificial  and  real,  favorites  with  the  fair,  as  they  ever 
should  be,  notwithstanding  we  learn  that  scents  and  odors  are 

*  Xi".v  York  Tribune. 


THE     TOILET      AND      ITS     DEVOTEES.  129 


out  of  fashion.     An  old  poet  thus  quaintly  chants  some  good 
advice  suited  to  all  : — 

"  Ye  who  would  save  your  features  florid, 
Lithe  limbs,  bright  eyes,  unwriiikled  forehead, 
From  age's  devastation  horrid, 

Adopt  this  plan — 
'Twill  make,  in  climates  cold  or  torrid, 

A  hale  old  man  : 

"  Avoid  in  youth,  luxurious  diet  ; 
Restrain  the  passions'  lawless  riot ; 
Devoted  to  domestic  quiet, 

Be  wisely  gay  ; 
So  shall  ye,  spite  of  age's  fiat, 

Resist  decay. 

"  Seek  not,  in  Mammon's  worship,  pleasure, 
But  find  your  richest,  dearest  treasure 
In  books,  friends,  music,  polished  leisure  ; 

The  mind,  not  sense, 

Make  the  sole  scale  by  which  ye  measure 
Your  opulence. 

•'  This  is  the  solace,  this  the  science, 
Life's  purest,  sweetest,  best  appliance, 
That  disappoints  not  man's  reliance, 

Whate'er  his  state  ; 
But  challenges,  with  calm  defiance, 

Time,  fortune,  fate." 

We  endorse  the  foregoing,  and  commend  it  to  the  ladies. 
Will  they  accept  it  as  a  little  advice  gratis?  It  is  invidious  to 
point  out  defects  in  beings  so  near  perfection,  and  we  cautiously 
refrain  from  such  audacity,  but  that  notorious  punster, 
Punch  affirms,  "  there  are  several  things  which  you  never  can 
by  any  account  get  a  lady — be  she  young  or  old — to  confess 
to."  Here  are  some  of  them  : — "That  she  laces  tight  ;  that 
her  shoes  are  too  small  for  her  ;  that  she  is  ever  tired  at  a 
ball  ;  that  she  paints  ;  that  she  is  as  old  as  she  looks  ;  that 

6* 


130  SALAD   FOR  THE   SOCIAL. 


she  has  been  more  than  five  minutes  dressing  ;  that  she  has 
kept  you  waiting  ;  that  she  blushed  when  a  certain  person's 
name  was  mentioned  ;  that  she  ever  says  a  thing  she  doesn't 
mean  ;  that  she  is  fond  of  scandal  ;  that  she  can't  keep  a 
secret  ;  that  she — she,  of  all  persons  in  the  world — is  in  love  ; 
that  she  doesn't  want  a  new  bonnet  ;  that  she  can  do  with 
one  single  thing  less  when  she  is  about  to  travel  ;  that  she 
hasn't  the  disposition  of  an  angel,  or  the  temper  of  a  saint — or 
how  else  could  she  go  through  one-half  of  what  she  does  ?  that 
she  doesn't  know  better  than  every  one  else  what  is  best  for 
her  ;  that  she  is  a  flirt  or  a  coquette;  that  she  is  ever  in  the 
wrong." 

A  curious  correspondent  in  Notes  and  Queries  observes  that, 
notwithstanding  the  mutations  of  fashion  in  England,  some 
old  habits  are  still  retained  with  great  tenacity.  The  Thames 
watermen  rejoice  in  the  dress  of  the  age  of  Elizabeth,  while  the 
royal  beef-eaters  (buffetiers)  wear  that  of  private  soldters  of  the 
time  of  Henry  VII.,  the  blue-coat  boy,  the  costume  of  the  reign 
of  Edward  VI.,  and  the  London  charity-school  girls  the  plain 
mob  cap  and  long  gloves  of  the  time  of  Queen  Anne.  In  the 
brass  badge  of  the  cabman  we  see  a  retention  of  a  dress  of 
Elizabethan  retainers,  while  the  shoulder-knots  that  once 
decked  an  officer  no\v  adorn  a  footman.  The  attire  of  a  sailor  of 
William  the  Third's  era  is  now  seen  among  our  fishermen.  The 
university  dress  is  as  old  as  the  age  of  the  Smithfield  martyrs. 
The  linen  bands  of  the  pulpit  and  the  bar  are  abridgments  of 
the  falling  collar. 

We  find  some  interesting  historic  anecdotes  illustrative  of 
our  subject  in  an  English  magazine  :* 

"  Shoes  with  very  long  points,  full  two  feet  in  length,  were 
invented  by  Henry  Plantagenet,  Duke  of  Anjou,  to  conceal 
an  excrescence  on  one  of  his  feet. 

"  Others,  on  the  contrary,  adopted  fashions  to  set  off  their 
peculiar  beauties — as  Isabella  of  Bavaria,  remarkable  for  her 

*  Eliza  Cook's  Journal. 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES.  131 


gallantry  and  the  fairness  of  her  complexion,  who  introduced 
the  fashion  of  leaving  the  shoulders  and  part  of  the  neck 
uncovered. 

"  In  the  year  1735  the  men  had  no  hats,  but  a  little  chapeau 
debras  ;  in  1745,  they  wore  a  very  small  hat  ;  yet  in  1725  they 
wore  an  enormous  one,  as  may  be  seen  in  Jeffrey's  Curious 
Collection  of  Habits  in  all  Nations.  Old  Putteuham,  in  his 
very  rare  work,  The  Art  of  Pwsie,  gives  some  curious  inform 
ation  :  '  Henry  VIII.  caused  his  own  head,  and  all  his  cour 
tiers,'  to  be  polled,  and  his  beard  to  be  cut  short  ;  before 
that  time,  it  was  thought  more  decent  both  for  old  men  and 
young  to  be  all  shaven,  and  '  weare  long  haire,  either  rounded 
or  square.  Now  again  at  this  time  (Elizabeth's  reign)  the 
young  gentlemen  of  the  court  have  taken  up  their  long  haire 
trayling  on  their  shoulders,  and  think  this  more  deacent  ;  for 
what  respect  I  would  be  glad  to  know.' 

"It  is  observed  by  the  lively  Yigneul  de  Marville  that  there 
are  flagrant  follies  in  fashion  which  must  be  endured  while  they 
reign  ;  and  which  never  appear  ridiculous  till  they  are  out  of 
fashion.  In  the  reign  of  Henry  III.  of  France,  they  could  uot 
exist  without  an  abundant  use  of  comfits.  All  the  world,  the 
grave  and  the  gay,  carried  in  their  pockets  a  comfit-box,  as  we 
do  snuff-boxes.  They  used  them  even  on  the  most  solemn 
occasions.  When  the  Duke  of  Guise  was  shot  at  Blois  he  was 
found  with  the  comfit-box  in  his  hand. 

"  A  shameful  extravagance  in  dress  has  been  a  most  vener 
able  folly.  In  the  reign  of  Richard  II. ,  the  dress  was  sumptu 
ous  beyond  belief.  Sir  John  Arundel  had  a  change  of  no  less 
than  fifty-two  new  suits  of  cloth  of  gold  tissue.  Brantome 
records  of  Elizabeth,  Queen  of  Philip  II.  of  Spain,  that  she 
never  wore  a  gown  twice." 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  votaries  of  fashion  too  often 
starve  their  happiness  to  feed  their  vanity  and  pride. 

A  passion  for  dress  is  nothing  new  ;  an  old  satirist  thus 
lampoons  the  ladies  of  his  day  : 


132  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


"  What  is  the  reason — can  you  guess, 

Why  men  are  poor,  and  women  thinner  ? 
So  much  do  they  for  dinner  dress. 

That  nothing's  left  to  dress  for  dinner/' 

It  is  not  women  alone  that  evince  a  proclivity  in  this  direc 
tion  ;  there  are  as  many  coxcombs  in  the  world  as  coquettes. 
The  folly  is  more  reprehensible  in  the  former  instance  than  the 
latter,  because  it  has  even  less  show  of  excuse.  If  Nature, 
according  to  Anacreon,  has  given  to  woman  the  empire  of 
beauty,  it  is  right  that  she  should  be  allowed  all  the  requisite 
accessories  for  its  tit  illustration. 

Old  Burton  has  a  quaint  tirade,  as  verbose  as  it  is  scurrilous: 
"  Why  do  women  array  themselves  in  such  fantastical  dresses 
and  quaint  devices — with  gold,  with  silver,  with  coronets,  pen 
dants,  bracelets,  earrings,  chains,  gualcs,  rings,  pins,  spangles, 
embroideries,  shadows,  rebatoes,  vcrsi-color  ribands,  featbers, 
fans,  masks,  furs,  laces,  tiffanies,  ruffs,  falls,  calls,  cuffs,  damasks, 
velvets,  tassels,  golden-cloth,  silver-tissue,  precious  stones,  stars, 
flowers,  birds,  beasts,  fishes,  crisped  locks,  wigs,  painted  faces, 
bodkins,  setting-sticks,  cork,  whalebone,  sweet  odors,  and  what 
soever  else  Africa,  Asia,  and  America  can  produce  ;  flaying 
their  faces  to  produce  the  fresher  complexion  of  a  new  skin, 
and  using  more  time  in  dressing  than  Caxsar  took  in  marshalling 
his  army  ;  but  that,  like  cunning  falconers,  they  wish  to  spread 
false  lures  to  catch  unwary  larks,  and  lead,  by  their  gaudy 
baits  and  meretricious  charms,  the  minds  of  inexperienced  youths 
into  the  traps  of  love  ?" 

Leigh  Hunt  says  :  "  Beauty  too  often  sacrifices  to  fashion. 
The  spirit  of  fashion  is  not  the  beautiful,  but  the  willful  ;  not 
the  graceful,  but  the  fantastic  ;  not  the  superior  in  the  abstract, 
but  the  superior  iu  the  worst  of  all  concretes — the  vulgar.  It 
is  the  vulgarity  that  can  afford  to  shift  and  vary  itself,  opposed 
to  the  vulgarity  that  longs  to  do  so,  but  cannot.  The  high 
point  of  taste  and  elegance  is  to  be  sought  for,  not  in  the  most 
fashionable  circles,  but  in  the  best  bred,  and  such  as  can  dis- 


THE      TOILETTE      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES.  133 


pense  with  the  eternal  necessity  of  never  being  the  same 
thing." 

The  mere  devotees  of  Fashion  have  been  defined  as  a  class 
of  would-be-refined  people,  perpetually  struggling  in  a  race 
to  escape  from  the  fancied  vulgar.  Neatness  in  our  costume 
is  needful  to  our  self-respect  ;  a  person  thinks  better 
of  himself  when  neatly  clad,  and  others  form  a  similar 
estimate  of  him.  It  has  been  quaintly  said  that  "  A  coat 
is  a  letter  of  credit  written  with  a  needle  upon  broad 
cloth." 

Character  is  indexed  by  costume.  First  impressions  are  thus 
I'urmed,  which  are  not  easily  obliterated.  Taste  and  neatness  hi 
dress  distinguish  the  refined  from  the  vulgar.  Persons  of  rude 
feelings  are  usually  roughly  attired  ;  they  evince  none  of  the 
grace  and  delicacy  of  the  cultivated  in  intellect,  morals,  and 
manners. 

Vanity,  like  laudanum,  and  other  poisonous  medicines,  is 
beneficial  in  small,  though  injurious  in  large  quantities.  No 
man,  who  is  not  pleased  with  himself,  even  in  a  personal  sense, 
can  please  others,  for  it  is  the  belief  of  his  own  grace  that 
makes  him  graceful  and  gracious.  If  it  be  a  recommendation 
to  dress  our  minds  to  the  best  advantage,  and  to  render  our 
selves  as  agreeable  as  possible,  why  should  it  be  an  objection 
to  bestow  the  same  pains  upon  personal  appearance  ? 

Girard,  the  famous  French  painter,  when  very  young,  was 
the  bearer  of  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Lanjuinais,  then  of  the 
Council  of  Napoleon.  The  young  painter  was  shabbily  attired, 
and  his  reception  was  extremely  cold  ;  but  Lanjuinais  dis 
covered  in  him  such  striking  proofs  of  talent,  good  sense,  and 
amiability,  that  on  Girard's  rising  to  take  leave,  he  rose  too, 
and  accompanied  his  visitor  to  the  ante-chamber.  The  change 
was  so  striking  that  Girard  could  not  avoid  an  expression  of 
surprise.  "  My  young  friend,"  said  Lanjuinais,  anticipating 
the  inquiry,  "  we  receive  an  unknown  person  according  to  his 
dress — we  take  leave  of  him  according  to  his  merit." 


134  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


Beu  Jonsou,  in  one  of  his  plays,  expresses  the  same  opinion  : 

"  Believe  it,  sir, 

That  clothes  do  much  upon  the  wit,  as  weather 
Does  on  the  brain  ;   and  thence,  sir,  coines  your  proverb, 
The  tailor  makes  the  man." 

One  of  our  greatest  historians  says  :  "  Dress  is  characteristic 
of  manners,  and  manners  are  the  mirror  of  ideas." 

A  writer  in  a  recent  periodical  also  remarks  :  "  Tailors  must 
live  ;  at  least  they  think  so,  and  we  have  no  objection.  Yet 
they  are  great  tyrants,  and  have  ingenious  ways  of  torturing 
their  victims.  One  way  is  this  :  they  invent  a  fashion  which 
is  strikingly  peculiar,  and  get  it  into  vogue  by  various  arts 
best  known  to  themselves  :  for  example,  very  short  overcoats, 
with  long  waists,  which  look  well  on  men  whose  figure  is  fault 
less.  The  next  movement,  after  everybody  is  overcoated  for 
the  winter,  is  to  bring  out  a  garment  which  differs  as  much  as 
possible  from  the  one  in  fashion  ;  that  is,  an  overcoat  with 
skirts  to  the  heels,  and  waist  under  the  armpits.  They  get 
half  a  dozen  men  of  high  fashion,  who  look  well  in  anything,  to 
parade  this  new  invention,  and  make  the  short-coated  majority 
appear  out  of  date.  The  mancEuvre  succeeds  ;  all  the  dandies 
are  driven  to  the  extravagance  of  ordering  a  superfluous  coat ; 
the  tailors  smile,  and  the  dandies  bleed,  or  their  fathers  do. 

Old  coats  are  essential  to  the  ease  of  the  body  and  mind  ; 
and  some  of  the  greatest  achievements  of  men  have  been  exe 
cuted  when  the  owners  were  in  rags.  Napoleon  wore  an  old, 
seedy  coat  during  the  whole  of  the  Russian  campaign  ;  and 
Wellington  wore  one  out  at  the  elbow  at  Waterloo.  Poets 
are  proverbial  for  a  penchant  for  seedy  garments. 

A  hat  is  the  symbol  and  characteristic  of  its  wearer.  It 
is  a  sign  and  token  of  his  avocation,  habits,  and  opinions — the 
creature  of  his  phantasy.  Minerva-like,  it  bursts  forth  in 
full  maturity  from  his  brain.  Extravagance,  pride,  cold-heart- 
edness,  and  vulgarity,  with  many  other  of  the  ruling  passions, 
may  be  detected  by  its  form  and  fashion.  One  may  ascertain 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES.  135 


whether  a  man  is  whimsical,  grotesque,  or  venially  flexible  in 
his  taste,  by  this  test.  Much  may  be  deduced  from  the  style 
in  which  it  is  worn. 

Beau  Brummell's  wardrobe  cost  him  £8,000  a-year.  In  his 
simple  elegance,  he  eclipsed  his  successor,  Count  D'Orsay. 
His  great  rival  was  the  Prince  of  Wales  (afterwards 
George  IV.),  whose  wardrobe  cost  £100,000  a  year. 

Beau  Nash  was  another  mirror  of  fashion  and  foppery.  Xo 
wonder  that  men  of  mind  are  found  disdainful  of  their  personal 
attire  when  their  sense  of  propriety  is  startled  by  such  absurd 
caricatures  of  the  species  being  held  at  a  premium  solely  for 
their  clothes. 

The  celebrated  poet  and  professor,  Buschin,  who  was  very 
careless  in  his  dress,  went  out  in  his  dressing-gown,  and  met  in 
the  street  a  citizen  with  whom  he  was  acquainted.  The  gen 
tleman,  however,  passed  him,  without  even  raising  his  hat. 
Divining  the  cause,  the  poet  hastened  home,  and  put  on  a  cloak 
of  velvet  and  ermine,  in  which  he  again  went  out,  and  contrived 
once  more  to  meet  the  same  citizen,  who  this  time  raised  his 
hat,  and  bowed  profoundly.  This  made  the  poet  still  more 
angry,  when  he  saw  that  his  velvet  cloak  claimed  more  respect 
than  his  professorship  and  poetical  fame.  He  hastened  home, 
threw  his  cloak  on  the  floor,  and  stamped  on  it,  saying — "  Art 
thou  Buschiu,  or  am  I  ?" 

A  curious  instance  of  the  importance  of  dress  occurred  at 
Paris  a  short  time  since— we  refer  to  the  exclusion  of  the 
celebrated  Chateaubriand  from  the  Academic  Franfaise,  in  con 
sequence  of  his  wearing  a  frock-coat.  In  some  cases,  as  in 
this,  the  man  is  of  less  consequence  than  his  coat. 

An  American  writer  describes  the  fop  as  "  a  complete  speci 
men  of  an  outside  philosopher.  He  is  one-third  collar,  one- 
sixth  patent  leather,  one-fourth  walking  stick,  and  the  remainder 
gloves  and  hair.  As  to  remote  ancestry,  there  is  some  doubt, 
but  it  is  now  pretty  well  settled  that  he  is  the  son  of  a  tailor's 
goose.  He  becomes  ecstatic  at  the  smell  of  new  cloth.  He  is 


136  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


somewhat  nervous,  and  to  dream  of  a  tailor's  bill  gives  him  the 
nightmare.  By  his  hair,  one  would  judge  he  was  dipped  like 
Achilles,  but  it  is  evident  that  the  goddess  held  him  by  the  head 
instead  of  the  heels.  Nevertheless,  such  men  are  useful.  If 
there  were  no  tadpoles  there  would  be  no  frogs.  They  are  not 
entirely  to  blame  for  being  so  devoted  to  externals.  Paste 
diamonds  must  have  a  splendid  setting  to  make  them  sell. 
Only  it  does  seem  a  waste  of  material  to  put  five  dollars'  worth 
of  beaver  on  five  cents'  worth  of  brains." 
Byron  designates  fops  as, 

"  Ambiguous  things,  that  ape 
Goats  in  their  visage,  women  in  their  shape." 

Onr  modern  beaux  mimic  the  Germans  in  covering  their 
(aces  as  much  as  possible,  as  if  they  felt  .the  necessity  of  some 
disguise  for  the  want  of  expression. 

It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  ladies  seldom  become  grey, 
while  the  heads  of  the  "lords  of  creation"  are  often  early  in 
life  either  bald  or  grey — sometimes  both.  Douglas  Jerrold 
tells  a  piquant  joke  as  follows  :  "  At  a  private  party  in  London, 
a  lady — who,  though  in  the  autumn  of  life,  had  not  lost  all 
dreams  of  its  spring — said  to  Jerrold — '  I  cannot  imagine 
what  makes  my  hair  turn  grey  ;  I  sometimes  fancy  it  must  be 
the  "  essence  of  rosemary"  with  which  my  maid  is  in  the  habit 
of  brushing  it.'  '  I  should  rather  be  afraid,  madam,'  replied 
the  dramatist,  '  that  it  is  the  essence  of  Time'  (thyme)." 

"  What  is  life — the  flourishing  array 
Of  the  proud  summer  meadow  which  to-day 
Wears  her  green  flush,  and  is  to-morrow  hay." 

Compared  with  earlier  times,  with  some  slight  exceptions, 
our  modern  costume  certainly  has  the  preeminence  :  it  has 
been  said  that  to  this  cause  is  to  be  attributed  the  seeming 
absence,  in  our  day,  of  any  transcendent  instances  of  remarkable 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES.  137 


beauty  in  the  fair  sex  :  all  may  be  made  up  attractively  where 
even  nature  has  been  niggard  of  her  endowments.  Dress  con 
fers  dignity  and  self-satisfaction,  besides  possessing  the  advan 
tage  of  attractiveness.  We  are  startled  to  hear  a  man  well 
attired  use  vulgar  speech,  but  our  amazement  is  materially 
lessened  if  the  party  be  attached  to  a  very  menial  employment 
and  is  enveloped  in  meaner  clothes.  Over-fastidiousness  at 
the  toilet  is,  nevertheless,  an  evil  equally  to  be  deprecated  :  a 
fop  is  as  much  to  be  despised  as  a  slattern  or  shrew — both  are 
obnoxious  to  good  breeding  and  good  taste. 

The  attributes  of  personal  beauty  may  be  reduced  to  four  : 
color,  form,  expression,  and  grace.  Colors  please  by  opposi 
tion,  and  it  is  in  the  face  that  they  are  most  diversified  and 
exposed.  Thus  contrasts  are  essential,  and  sallow  complexions 
should  be  set  off  by  dark  cravats  and  clothing  ;  whilst  fairer 
features  may  adopt  lighter  hues — Beauty  of  form  includes  the 
symmetry  of  the  whole  body,  even  to  the  turn  of  the  eyebrow 
or  the  graceful  flow  of  the  hair.  Hence  the  perfect  union  and 
harmony  of  all  parts  of  the  body  is  the  source  and  general  cause 
of  beauty  ;  and  whilst  the  peculiar  attraction  of  the  female 
form  should  be  softness  and  delicacy,  that  of  manly  beauty 
should  be  apparent  strength  and  agility.  Expression  may  be 
considered  as  the  effect  of  the  passions  on  the  muscles  of  the 
countenance,  and  the  different  gestures.  The  finest  com 
bination  is  a  just  mixture  of  modesty  and  sensibility. 
Indeed,  all  the  benign  affections — such  as  love,  hope,  joy,  and 
pity — add  to  beauty  ;  while  the  predominance  of  hatred,  fear, 
or  envy,  in  the  mind,  deforms  or  injures  the  countenance.  Grace 
is  the  noblest  part  of  beauty. 

An  anonymous  writer  thus  apostrophizes  beauty  :  "  There 
is  something  in  beauty,  whether  it  dwells  in  the  human  face? 
in  the  pencilled  leaves  of  flowers,  the  sparkling  surface  of  the 
fountain,  that  makes  us  mourn  its  ruin.  I  should  not  envy  that 
man  his  feelings  who  could  see  a  leaf  wither,  or  a  flower  fall, 
Without  a  slight  tribute  of  regret." 


188  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


"  Oh,  human  beauty  is  a  sight 
To  sadden  rather  than  delight, 
Being  the  prelude  of  a  lay, 
Whose  burden  is  decay.'' 

Prompted  by  their  loyalty  to  woman,  we  find  the  poets  have 
ever  made  her  charms  the  inspiring  theme  of  their  muse  ;  not 
however,  in  the  realm  of  song  merely  has  she  been  celebrated  ; 
sober  writers  iu  prose  have  been  scarcely  less  enthusiastic  in 
their  laudations.  Jeremy  Taylor  styles  woman  "  the  precious 
porcelain  of  human  clay."  iSot  only  is  she  potent  iu  physical 
endowment — hers  is  the  more  enduring  excellence  of  moral 
beauty,  for  her  heart  is  the  home  of  the  virtues  ;  and  while 
the  fascinations  of  her  personal  beauty  captivate  the  sense,  our 
grateful  love  arid  veneration  do  willing  homage  to  her  moral 
excellence  and  worth.  While,  therefore,  with  one  who  felt  the 
mystic  power  of  her  bewildering  charms,  we  exclaim — 

"  Denied  the  smile  from  partial  beauty  won, 
Oh,  what  were  man — a  world  without  a  sun !'' 

We  yet  instinctively  yield  to  the  still  more  potent  influence 
of  her  enduring  love,  her  patient  faith,  and  the  nameless 
clusters  of  graces  which  constitute  her  moral  beauty. 

It  was  a  pertinent  and  forcible  saying  of  the  Emperor 
Napoleon  that  "  a  handsome  woman  pleases  the  eye,  but  a  good 
woman  pleases  the  heart.  The  one  is  a  jewel,  and  the  other  a 
treasure." 

A  contemporary  poet*  has  epitomized  it  all  in  two  flowing 
stanzas  : 

"What's  a  fair  or  noble  face, 

If  the  mind  ignoble  be? 
What  though  Beauty,  in  each  grace, 
May  her  own  resemblance  see  I 

*  Charles  Swain. 


THE      TOILET      AND      ITS      DEVOTEES.  139 


Eyes  may  catch  from  heaven  their  spell, 

Lips  the* ruby's  light  recall  ; 
In  the  Home  for  Love  to  dwell 

One  good  feeling's  worth  them  all. 

"  Give  me  Virtue's  rose  to  trace, 

Honor's  kindling  glance  and  mien, 
Howsoever  plain  the  face, 

Beauty  is  where  these  are  seen  ! 
Raven  ringlets  o'er  the  snow 

Of  the  whitest  neck  may  fall ; 
In  the  Home  for  love  we  know 

One  good  feeling's  worth  them  all!" 

Beauty  being  the  theme  with  which  our  chapter  commenced, 
it  should  also  conclude  it.  We  sum  up  the  case  then,  as  legal 
gentlemen  have  it,  in  the  words  of  an  American  poetess  : — 

"  Thou  wert  a  worship  in  the  ages  olden, 

Thou  bright-veiled  image  of  divinity, 
Crowned  with  such  gleams,  imperial  and  golden, 

As  Phidias  gave  to  immortality  ! 
A  type  exquisite  of  the  pure  Ideal, 

Forth  shadowed  in  perfect  loveliness — 
Embodied  and  existent  in  the  Real, 

A  perfect  shape  to  kneel  before  and  bless."* 

*  Mrs.   Eames. 


THE  MYSTERIES  OF  MEDICINE. 


"  If  physic  be  a  trade,  it  la  a  trade  of  all  others  the  moat  exactly  cut  out  for  a  rogue." 
— Lacon. 

"  Man  is  a  dupable  animal.  Qaacks  in  medicine,  quacks  in  religion,  and  quacks  in 
politics  know  this,  and  act  upon  that  knowledge.  There  is  scarcely  any  one  who  may 
not,  like  a  trout,  be  taken  by  tickling." — Southey. 

WORTHY  Sir  Thomas  Browne  has  nobly  sought  to  dignify  the 
medical  profession,  and  it  would  be  undignified  in  us  to  attempt 
to  impeach  his  excellent  judgment.  There  are,  however,  sun 
dry  phases  of  the  Faculty  that  present  points  of  humor  and 
eccentricity  so  irresistibly  amusing  that  to  indulge  a  little  mer 
riment  over  them  cannot  but  prove  an  innocent  pastime.  There 
is  fun  enough  in  "  love,  law,  and  physic,"  if  we  seek  it  out. 
Any  one  with  an  eye  for  the  ludicrous  will  not  need  any  specifi 
cations  in  point.  Much  that  is  farcical  in  physic  is,  by  the  law 
of  electric  affinities,  transferred  to  the  physician  himself. 

140 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF     MEDICINE.  141 


Judging  by  the  latitudinarianism  of  some  practitioners,  and 
the  absurd  nostrums  of  empirics  and  quacks,  in  all  ages,  it  has 
been  gravely  asked,  whether  doctors  are  really  not  the  final 
cause  of  disease.  It  is  not,  of  course,  to  be  disputed,  that  they 
have  been,  to  no  inconsiderable  extent,  accessory  both  to  the 
reduction  of  disease  and — of  life  itself.  But  for  the  inherent 
tendency  of  mankind  to  blind  credulity  and  superstition,  it  may 
be  doubted  whether  the  profession  of  medicine  would  ever  have 
been  made  the  vehicle  of  such  gross  absurdities  and  cunning 
impostures,  as  its  past,  and  especially  its  earlier  history  reveals. 
We  are  not  about,  however,  to  cast  any  imputation  upon  the 
science  of  therapeutics  ;  our  purpose  being  to  glance  at  some 
of  the  wild  and  monstrous  follies  which  have  so  long  disputed 
its  claims  to  the  suffrages  of  society.  Medical  practice  has 
been  defined  to  be,  for  the  most  part,  guessing  at  Nature's 
intentions  and  wishes,  and  then  endeavoring  to  substitute  man's. 
Medication  is  not  the  most  essential  element  of  cure. 

Disease  is  self-limited.  Its  tendency,  in  nineteen  out  of 
twenty  cases,  is  toward  recovery  ;  and  that,  uninfluenced  as  to 
the  ultimate  result  of  death  or  recovery  (more  or  less  complete) 
by  any  medical  interference  ;  unless,  indeed,  the  latter  should 
be  murderously  severe. 

"Nature,"  says  a  French  philosophical  writer,  "is  fighting 
with  disease  ;  a  blind  man  armed  with  a  club — that  is,  the 
physician — comes  to  settle  the  difference.  He  first  tries  to 
make  peace  ;  when  he  cannot  accomplish  this,  he  lifts  his  club 
and  strikes  at  random.  If  he  strikes  the  disease,  he  kills  the 
disease  ;  if  he  strikes  nature,  he  kills  the  patient."  And  to 
prove,  from  one  who  himself  turned  state's  evidence  on  this 
point — D'Alembert  relates  that  an  individual,  after  conducting 
a  prominent  practice  for  thirty  years,  confessed,  as  his  reason 
for  retiring  from  it,  that  he  was  weary  of  guessing!  An 
industrious  nosologist  has  estimated  that  there  are  about 
twenty-four  hundred  disorders  incident  to  the  human  frame  ! 

Possibly  our  great  dramatist  was  not  aware  to  what  nHmeri- 
cal  extent  reached  "  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to,"  or  he  would 


142  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


scarcely  have  BO  disparagingly  suggested  that  we  should 
"  throw  physic  to  the  dogs."  Or  it  may  be  because  there  is, 
according  to  Punch,  "  an  evident  affinity  between  physic  and 
the  dogs — a  fact  that  shows  the  master  mind  of  Shakspeare  in 
suggesting  the  throwing  of  the  former  to  the  latter  ;  for  it  is 
clear  that  every  medicine,  like  every  dog,  has  its  day.  Pills 
have  had  their  popularity,  and  elixirs  have  had  their  run. 
Lozenges  have  taken  their  turn  on  the  wheel  of  fortune,  and  even 
pastes  have  been  stuck  to  for  a  time  by  crowds  of  adherents.'' 

Napoleon  ouce  said  to  one  of  his  physicians  (Dr.  Antom- 
marchi),  "  Believe  me,  we  had  better  leave  off  all  these  reme 
dies — life  is  a  fortress  that  neither  you  nor  I  know  anything 
about.  Why  throw  obstacles  in  the  way  of  its  defence  ?  Its 
own  means  are  superior  to  all  the  apparatus  of  your  laborato 
ries.  Medicine  is  a  collection  of  uncertain  prescriptions,  the 
results  of  which,  taken  collectively,  are  more  fatal  than  useful 
to  mankind." 

The  celebrated  Zimmerman  went  from  Hanover  to  attend 
Frederick  the  Great,  in  his  last  illness.  One  day  the  king  said 
to  him,  "You  have,  I  presume,  sir,  helped  many  a  man  into 
another  world  ?"  This  was  rather  a  bitter  pill  for  the  doctor  ; 
but  the  dose  he  gave  the  king  in  return  was  a  judicious  mix 
ture  of  truth  and  flattery  :  "Not  so  many  as  your  majesty, 
nor  with  so  much  honor  to  myself."  Colman  says,  "  the  medi 
cal  and  military  both  deal  in  death  ;"  and  if  true,  that  two  of 
a  trade  never  agree,  it  may  be  the  emperor  was  jealous  of  his 
reputation. 

The  death  of  Pope  Adrian  occasioned  such  joy  at  Rome, 
that  the  night  after  his  decease  they  adorned  the.  door  of  kin 
chief  physicians  house  with  garlands,  adding  this  inscription — 
"  To  the  deliverer  of  his  country." 

Said  an  old  dramatist — 

'•  These,  sir, 

Are  Death's  masters  of  the  ceremonies  ; 
More  strangely-clad  officials  never  yet 
Ufchcred  the  way  to  Death's  cold  festival." 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF      MEDICINE.  143 


A  contemporary  observes  :  "  The  world  is  peopled  by  two 
classes  of  beings,  who  seem  to  be  as  cognate  and  necessary 
to  each  other  as  male  and  female.  Charlatans  and  dupes  exist 
by  a  mutual  dependence.  There  is  a  tacit  understanding,  that 
whatever  the  one  invents  the  other  must  believe.  All  bills 
which  the  former  draws,  the  latter  comes  forward  at  once  and 
honors.  One  is  Prospero,  the  other  his  poor  slave  Caliban. 
The  charlatan  tricks  himself  out  in  a  mask,  assumes  a  deep, 
hollow  voice,  and  struts  upon  the  stage,  while  the  dupe  sits 
gaping  in  the  pit,  and  takes  every  word  that  drops  from  the 
rogue's  mouth  for  gospel-truth  and  genuine  philosophy.  It 
would  really  seem  as  if  the  two  parties  had  entered  into  a 
solemn  compact,  that  wherever  the  one  exhibited  as  charlatan, 
the  other,  by  an  absolute  necessity,  agrees  to  be  present  as 
simpleton.  Let  the  rogue  open  shop  to  dispense  pills,  the 
simpleton,  as  soon  as  he  learns  the  fact,  hies  to  the  place  of 
trade,  and,  pouring  down  his  pence  on  the  counter,  takes  his 
box  of  specifics,  and  walks  complacently  away.  The  knaves 
seem  to  consider  the  world  as  a  rich  parish — a  large  diocese 
of  dunces,  into  which  they  have  an  hereditary  and  prescriptive 
right  to  be  installed.  They  are  never  at  rest  until  they  have 
some  subject  on  which  to  hold  forth  in  public  ;  some  novel  doc 
trine  running  against  the  grain  of  the  old  good  sense  ;  some 
antiquated  sophism  dressed  in  a  new  suit,  to  be  put  forth  to 
surprise  and  startle  the  community,  and  gather  aroand  it  (as  a 
gay  adventurer)  an  army  of  disciples.  These  men  constantly 
assume  an  attitude  of  battle." 

Addison,  who  surrounded  himself  with  all  the  accessories  of 
fortune,  seems  to  have  had  a  depreciating  estimate  of  the 
Faculty.  These  are  his  words  :  "  If  we  look  into  the  profes 
sion  of  physic,  we  shall  find  a  most  formidable  body  of  men  ; 
the  sight  of  them  is  enough  to  make  a  man  serious,  for  we  may 
lay  it  down  as  a  maxim  that  when  a  nation  abounds  in  physi 
cians,  it  grows  thin  of  people."  This  body  of  men  he  compares 
to  the  British  army  in  Caesar's  time — some  of  them  slay  in 


144  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


chariots,  and  some  on  foot.  If  the  infantry  do  less  execution 
than  the  charioteers,  it  is  because  they  cannot  be  carried  so 
soon  into  all  quarters,  and  dispatch  so  much  business  in  so  short 
a  time.  "  Besides  this  body  of  regular  troops,"  he  adds,  "  there 
are  stragglers,  who,  without  being  duly  enlisted  and  enrolled, 
do  infinite  mischief  to  those  who  are  so  unlucky  as  to  fall  into 
their  hands." 

Doctors  have  by  some  been  called  a  class  of  men  who  live  on 
the  misfortunes  of  their  fellow-creatures  ;  by  others,  the  allevi 
ators  of  life's  miseries.  Perhaps  both  are  true,  depending  upon 
the  variety. 

Empirics  and  charlatans  are  the  excrescences  of  the  medical 
profession  ;  they  have  obtained  in  all  ages  as  well  as  in  the 
present.  The  "  healing  art"  is  not  necessarily  the  occasion  for 
deception,  nor  the  operations  of  witchcraft,  charms,  amulets, 
astrology,  necromancy,  alchemy,  and  magic,  although  it  has  its 
mysteries  like  other  branches  of  occult  scicuce.  Although  the 
progress  of  the  Materia  Medica,  in  our  times,  is  less  impeded 
by  superstition  and  blind  obedience  to  the  axioms  of  the 
ancients,  still  much  remains  to  be  achieved  before  our  pharma 
copoeias  will  be  found  to  exhibit  the  certain  processes  or  speci- 
6cs  of  ascertained  value,  by  the  adoption  of  those  substances 
only  whose  effects  upon  the  tissues  of  the  human  body  are 
thoroughly  understood.  Said  Dr.  Abercrombie,  "  the  uncer 
tainty  of  medicine — which  is  thus  a  theme  both  for  the  philo 
sopher  and  the  humorist — is  deeply  felt  by  the  practical  physi 
cian  in  the  daily  exercise  of  his  art.  The  uncertainty  of 
medicine  resolves  itself  chiefly  into  an  apparent  want  of  that 
uniformity  of  phenomena,  which  is  so  remarkable  in  other 
branches  of  physical  science.  These  apparent  discrepancies 
regard  the  characteristics  and  progress  of  disorder,  and  the 
action  of  external  agents  upon  the  body — the  diagnosis  of 
disease,  and  its  true  antidote.  It  is  an  admitted  fact,  that 
with  all  the  accumulative  experience  of  the  past,  no  certain, 
infallible  data  have  yet  been  established  for  ascertaining  the 


THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MEDICINE.        145 


characters  or  external  indications  of  certain  internal  diseases, 
as  distinguished  from  those  of  others — so  many  exhibiting 
appearances  in  common."  It  has  been  asserted,  that  those 
persons,  generally,  are  most  confident  in  regard  to  the  charac 
ter  of  disease  whose  knowledge  is  most  limited  ;  and  that  more 
extended  observation  induces  doubt  and  indecision.  If  such 
uncertainty  attends  the  diagnosis  of  disease,  it  will  not  be 
denied  that  at  least  an  equal  degree  of  incertitude  must  inter 
fere  in  the  application  of  remedial  agents.  To  cite  an  illustra 
tion  from  the  authority  already  referred  to,  we  may  state 
the  various  modes  by  which  internal  inflammation  terminates — 
as  resolution,  suppuration,  gangrene,  adhesion,  and  effusion  ; 
but,  in  regard  to  any  particular  case  of  inflammation,  how  little 
notion  can  be  formed  of  what  will  be  its  progress,  or  how  it 
will  terminate.  An  equal,  or  even  a  more  remarkable  uncer 
tainty  attends  all  our  researches  on  the  action  of  external 
agents  upon  the  body — as  causes  of  disease,  and  as  remedies  ; 
and  in  both  cases  their  action  is  fraught  with  the  highest 
degree  of  uncertainty.  The  great  difficulty  in  medicine  seems 
to  consist  in  the  tracing  efl'ects  to  their  true  causes,  and  vice 
versa. 

In  justice  to  the  many  illustrious  benefactors  of  their  age, 
we  must  not  forget  that,  although  the  profession  has  been  dis 
graced  by  empirics  and  quacks,  a  host  of  great  names  have 
ennobled  it  by  their  virtues,  their  brilliant  attainments  and 
services,  as  well  as  their  self-denial.  If  Hippocrates  be  regarded 
as  the  father  of  physic,  science  was  then  in  its  infancy,  and  it 
is  to  the  collective  wisdom  and  experience  of  his  successors  that 
it  owes  all  its  present  glory  and  renown.  Such  men  have  been 
indeed  blessings  to  their  age,  and  to  the  world  at  large  ;  and 
the  fragrant  memory  of  their  benevolence  and  skill,  would,  of 
course,  go  far  to  redeem  the  profession  they  ennobled  from  the 
rebuke  of  charlatanism.  It  is  to  such  men  as  Harvey,  Garth, 
Radcliffe,  Meade,  Askew,  Pitcairn,  Baillie,  Cullen,  Freind, 
Linacre,  Cains,  Hunter,  Denman,  Velpeau,  Listen,  Mott,  and 


146  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


Brocklesby,  the  friend  of  Johnson,  with  many  others  of  refined 
literary  attainments,  that  it  owes  much  of  its  glory. 

Pope,  a  few  days  prior  to  his  decease,  records  the  following 
high  testimony  to  the  urbanity  and  courtesy  of  his  medical 
friends — "  There  is  no  end  of  my  kind  treatment  from  the 
Faculty  ;  they  are  in  general  the  most  amiable  companions, 
and  the  best  friends,  as  well  as  the  most  learned  men  I  know." 
And  Dryden,  in  the  postscript  to  his  translation  of  Virgil, 
speaks  in  a  similar  way  of  the  profession.  "  That  I  have 
recovered,"  says  he,  "in  some  measure  the  health  which  I  had 
lost  by  too  much  application  to  this  work,  is  owing,  next  to 
God's  mercy,  to  the  skill  and  care  of  Dr.  Guibbons  and  Dr. 
llobbs,  the  two  ornaments  of  their  profession,  whom  I  can  only 
pay  by  this  acknowledgment." 

It  will  be  remembered  possibly,  and  it  is  a  somewhat  curious 
fact  to  commence  with,  that  we  have  an  instance  on  record  of 
David  in  his  youth,  with  his  harp,  striving  by  the  aid  of  music 
to  cure  the  mental  derangement  of  Saul  ;  a  method  of  cure  in 
those  early  times  which  seems  to  have  been  commonly  resorted 
to.  Many  of  the  classic  writers  allude  to  the  practice  ;  some 
even  proposing  it  as  a  certain  remedy  for  a  dislocated  limb,  the 
gout,  or  even  the  bite  of  a  viper.  The  medicinal  properties  of 
music  were  manifold  and  marvellous.  For  example :  a  fever 
was  removed  by  a  song  ;  deafness,  by  a  trumpet  ;  and  the  pes 
tilence  chased  away  by  the  harmonious  lyre  !  That  deaf  people 
can  hear  best  in  a  great  noise,  is  a  fact  alleged  by  some 
moderns  in  favor  of  the  ancient  mode  of  removing  deafness  by 
the  trumpet. 

The  healing  art  is  not  without  its  heroes.  Madame  de 
Genlis  relates  the  story  of  one  who,  to  save  his  native  city  from 
the  ravages  of  the  plague,  voluntarily  surrendered  himself  a 
sacrifice.  The  incident  is  as  follows  :  "  The  plague  raged  vio 
lently  in  Marseilles.  Every  link  of  affection  was  broken  ;  the 
father  turned  from  the  child,  the  child  from  the  father ;  ingra 
titude  no  longer  excited  indignation.  Misery  is  at  its  height 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF      MEDICI  X  E .  147 


when  it  thus  destroys  every  generous  feeling,  thus  dissolves 
every  tie  of  humanity  !  The  city  became  a  desert,  grass  grew 
in  the  streets,  a  funeral  met  you  at  every  step.  '  The  physicians 
assembled  in  a  body  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  to  hold  a  consultation 
on  the  fearful  disease,  for  which  no  remedy  had  yet  been  dis 
covered.  After  a  long  deliberation,  they  decided  unanimously 
that  the  malady  had  a  peculiar  and  mysterious  character,  which 
opening  a  corpse  alone  might  develop — an  operation  it  was 
impossible  to  attempt,  since  the  operator  must  infallibly  become 
a  victim  in  a  few  hours,  beyond  the  power  of  human  art  to 
save  him,  as  the  violence  of  the  attack  would  preclude  their 
administering  the  customary  remedies.  .A  dead  pause  suc 
ceeded  this  fatal  declaration.  Suddenly  a  sunreon  named 
Guyon,  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  of  great  celebrity  in  his  pro 
fession,  rose,  and  said  firmly,  "  Be  it  so  :  I  devote  myself  for 
the  safety  of  my  country.  Before  this  numerous  assembly  I 
swear,  in  the  name  of  humanity  and  religion,  that  to-morrow, 
at  the  break  of  day,  I  will  dissect  a  corpse,  and  write  down  as 
I  proceed  what  I  observe."  He  left  the  assembly  instantly. 
They  admire  him,  lament  his  fate,  and  doubt  whether  he  will 
persist  in  his  design.  The  intrepid  and  pious  Guyon,  animated 
by  all  the  sublime  energy  religion  can  inspire,  acted  up  to  his 
words.  He  had  never  married,  he  was  rich,  and  be  immedi 
ately  made  a  will,  dictated  by  justice  and  piety  ;  he  confessed, 
and  in  the  middle  of  the  night  received  the  sacraments.  A  man 
had  died  of  the  plague  in  his  house  within  four-and-twenty 
hours  ;  Guyon,  at  day-break,  shut  himself  up  in  the  same 
room  ;  he  took  with  him  an  inkstand,  paper,  and  a  little  cru 
cifix.  Full  of  enthusiasm,  never  had  he  felt  more  firm  or  more 
collected  :  kneeling  before  the  corpse,  he  wrote,  '  Mouldering 
remains  of  an  immortal  soul,  not  only  can  I  gaze  on  thee  without 
horror,  but  even  with  joy  and  gratitude.  Thou  wilt-  open  to 
me  the  gates  of  a  glorious  eternity.  In  discovering  to  me  the 
secret  cause  of  the  terrible  disease  which  destroys  my  native 
city,  thou  wilt  enable  me  to  point  out  some  salutary  remedy' — . 


148  SALAD   FOR   THE   SOCIAL. 


thon  wilt  render  my  sacrifice  useful.  Oh,  God!  thou  wilt  bless 
the  action  tiiou  hast  thyself  inspired.'  He  began — lie  finished 
the  dreadful  operation,  and  recorded  in  derail  his  surgical 
observations.  He  then  left  the  room,  threw  the  papers  into  a 
vase  of  vinegar,  and  afterwards  sought  the  lazaretto,  where  he 
died  in  twelve  hoars — a  death  ten  thousand  times  nore  glori 
ous  than  the  warrior's,  who,  to  save  his  country,  rushes  on  the 
enemy's  ranks,  since  he  advances,  with  hope  at  least,  sustained, 
admired,  and  seconded,  by  a  whole  army."  This  was  an 
instance  of  heroic  self-devotion  perhaps  unparalleled.  But  to 
resume  our  subject  : 

"  Dr.  Willis  tells  us,"  says  Burney,  in  his  History  of  Music, 
"  of  a  lady  who  could  hear  onlyirkile.  a  drum  was  beating;  inso 
much  that  her  husband  actually  hired  a  drummer,  as  a  servant, 
in  order  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  her  conversation."  A  certain 
Frenchman,  Vigneul  de  Marville,  insists  that  musical  sounds 
contribute  to  the  health  of  the  body  and  the  mind,  assist  the 
circulation  of  the  blood,  dissipate  vapors,  and  open  the  vessels, 
so  that  the  action  of  perspiration  is  freer.  He  tells  a  story  of 
a  person  of  distinction,  who  assured  him,  that  once,  being  sud 
denly  seized  by  violent  illness,  instead  of  a  consultation  of  phy 
sicians,  he  immediately  called  a  band  of  musicians,  and  their 
violins  played  so  well  in  his  inside,  "  that  his  bowels  became 
perfectly  in  tune,  and  in  a  few  hours  were  completely  becalmed." 
Naturalists  assert  that  animals  arc  sensible  to  the  charms  of 
the  divine  art ;  why  not  the  biped,  man  ?  The  well-known 
line  will  occur  to  the  reader, 

"  Music  hath  charms  to  soothe  the  savage  breast ;" 

and  the  great  dramatist  predicates  moral  delinquency  where 
the  effects  of  its  dulcet  influence  is  not  acknowledged — 

"  The  man  that  hath  no  music  in  himself, 
Nor  is  not  moved  with  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 
Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils." 

A  little  plaintive,  soothing  melody  after  dinner  has   long 


THE      MYSTERIES    OF    MEDICINE.  149 


been  resorted  to  as  an  auxiliary  to  the  digestive  process  ;  the 
effect  is  to  induce  a  temporary  state  of  mental  quiescence  and 
repose,  while  it  confers  all  the  advantages  of  sleep  with  none 
of  its  disadvantages.  It  is  putting  the  soul  in  tune,  as  Milton 
expresses  it,  for  any  subsequent  exertion. 

Medical  lore  would  not  probably  have  been  so  far  behind  the 
other  sciences,  had  its  professors  but  husbanded,  in  a  collective 
form,  the  experience  of  the  past,  as  has  been  the  case,  for  exam 
ple,  in  the  art  of  navigation.  To  begin  with  Galen,  as  a  start 
ing  point,  it  will  be  sufficient  to  remark,  that  he  reprobated 
such  prescriptions  as  were  composed  of  any  portions  of  the 
human  body  ;  and  he  severely  condemned  Xenocrates  for  hav 
ing  introduced  them,  as  being  worse  than  useless,  as  well  as 
being  positively  unjustifiable.  Yet  these  abominable  ingre 
dients  continued  in  use  till  what  may  be  styled  the  reforma 
tion  of  medicine  in  the  seventeenth  century.  Human  bones 
were  administered  internally  as  a  cure  for  ulcers,  and  the  bones 
were  to  be  those  of  the  part  affected.  A  preparation  called 
aqua  divina  was  made  by  cutting  in  pieces  the  body  of  a  healthy 
man  who  had  died  a  violent  death,  and  distilling  it. 

The  mummery  of  early  medicine,  with  all  its  cabalistic  and 
unintelligible  mysticisms,  formed  a  part  of  the  age  which 
sanctioned  such  buffoonery.  The  state  of  medicine  may  be 
considered  as  the  criterion  or  barometer  of  the  state  of  morals, 
as  well  as  science  in  a  nation.  This  is  evidenced  by  the  miser 
able  condition  of  the  science  in  Europe  so  late  as  the  tenth 
century,  when  there  was  scarcely  a  physician  in  Spain. 

The.  Jews  are  the  first  people  on  record  who  practised  the 
art  of  healing,  which  they  probably  learned  from  the  Egyp 
tians  ;  but  the  Greeks,  who  worshipped  ^Esculapius  as  the  god 
of  medicine,  first  reduced  that  art  to  a  regular  system.  Hippo 
crates  is  justly  considered  as  the  father  of  physic,  being  the 
most  ancient  author  whose  writings  on  that  subject  are  pre 
served.  The  most  celebrated  physicians  who  succeeded  him 
were  Asclepiades,  Celsus,  and  Galen. 


150  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


After  the  subversion  of  the  Roman  Empire  the  arts  and 
sciences  were  totally  eclipsed  by  the  barbarons  manners  of  the 
Europeans,  and  medicine  was  translocated  to  the  peaceful 
regions  of  Arabia,  Before  the  crusades,  several  Hebrew, 
Arabian,  and  Latin  professors  of  physic  settled  at  Saleroom, 
where  Charles  the  Great  founded  a  college  for  their  reception 
in  the  year  802. 

The  first  distinguished  quack  we  find  mentioned  in  medical 
annals,  and  who  may  therefore  be  styled  the  prototype  of  his 
illustrious  successors,  rejoiced  in  the  classic  name  of  Asclepiades. 
His  eccentricity  and  affected  contempt  of  everything  in  the  way 
of  medical  lore,  that  existed  prior  to  his  advent  at  Rome,  gave 
him  some  considerable  notoriety.  With  all  his  irregularities 
and  whims,  however,  he  certainly  inculcated  some  good  plain 
common  sense.  He  was  the  originator  of  the  Balinea  pensilis, 
or  shower-bath,  and  the  free  application  of  cold  water,  exter 
nally  and  internally — cheap  remedies,  and  very  effective  in  the 
cure  and  prevention  of  disease  ;  for  which  discovery  alone  his 
memory  will  live. 

Paracelsus  was  the  prince  of  quacks.  In  order  to  give  him 
self  dignity,  he  assumed  the  names  of  Philippus,  Anreolus, 
Tbeophr-astes,  Paracelsus,  Bombastes  de  Uobenheim.  He  openly 
discarded  all  the  commonly-received  doctrines  and  modes  of 
practice,  and  pretended  to  have  sought  for  truth  many  years 
everywhere  and  from  every  body,  high  and  low,  learned  and 
illiterate.  He  made  a  pompous  proclamation  of  his  travels 
and  researches,  and  pretended  to  have  made  great  acquisitions 
in  medical  science.  He  styled  himself  the  king  of  physjc,  and 
although  he  professed  to  have  discovered  the  elixir  of  life,  he 
yet  died  at  the  age  of  48  years. 

The  commencement  of  the  sixteenth  century  was  rendered 
memorable  by  the  introduction  of  chemistry  into  medicine. 
Paracelsus  endeavored  to  explain  the  art  of  healing  on  chemi 
cal  principles  at  once  fanciful  and  illusory. 

A   high  degree  of  dignity  has   been  ever  claimed  for  the 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF      MEDICINE.  151 


medical  profession,  as  mediating  between  life  and  death  ;  some 
even  supposing  it  to  have  been  of  divine  origin,  from  the  pass 
age  in  Ecclesiasticus :  "  For  the  Lord  hath  created  medicines 
out  of  the  earth,  and  he  that  is  wise  will  not  abhor  them." 
Some  of  the  Floridian  tribes,  as  we  learn  from  Southey's  Doc- 
tor,  had  so  high  an  opinion  of  medical  virtue,  that  they  buried 
all  their  dead  except  their  doctors  ;  them  they  burnt,  reduced 
their  bones  to  powder,  and  drank  the  same  in  water — a 
delicious  decoction  for  a  delicate  stomach  !  Old  astrologers, 
and  the  like  fraternity,  with  their  mathematical  marks  and 
zodaical  signs,  sought  to  invest  their  craft  with  a  myste 
rious  sanctity.  Boasting  its  origin  and  authority  to  be 
heaven-derived,  with  its  blazonry  of  factitious  distinction, 
would  it  be  suspected,  after  all,  the  curative  art  is  to  be  traced 
even  to  the  instinct  of  the  brutes  ?  For  example,  the  sagacious 
dog,  when  indisposed,  may  be  seen  to  enact  himself  the  doctor, 
by  a  resort  to  the  fields  to  eat  a  quantity  of  prickly  grass — an 
expedient  which  seldom  fails  of  success,  by  acting  as  an  emetic. 
The  same  with  the  cat,  when  she  finds  herself  "  a  little  under 
the  weather,"  forthwith  she  sneaks  off  for  some  catnip.  There 
is  a  story  related  of  an  Arabian  shepherd,  who,  having  observed 
the  goats  of  his  flock,  as  often  as  they  browsed  upon  the  coffee- 
fruit,  to  skip  about  and  exhibit  signs  of  intoxication,  tasting 
the  berry  himself,  tested  the  fact.  The  apes  of  Abyssinia,  in 
the  same  way,  indicated  to  their  superior  masters  the  laxative 
qualities  of  the  cassia  fistula.  One  might  almost  suppose, 
therefore,  a  necessity  for  the  resorting  to  sorcery,  witchcraft, 
stichomancy,  and  other  mysterious  agencies,  in  order  to  disguise 
the  humble  sources  of  some  elementary  branches  of  our  famed 
medical  lore.  Egypt,  India,  and  Palestine,  seem  to  have  been 
blessed  with  no  small  supply  of  the  erudite  in  these  matters  ; 
such  as  pneumatologists,  exorcists,  magicians,  thaumaturgists, 
and  enchanters.  These  magi  combined,  with  their  exercise  of 
the  healing  art  for  the  body,  the  power  of  curing  psychological 
maladies,  and  with  sad:  an  extensive  variety  of  practice,  these 


152  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


ancient  scenes  must  have  made  a  tolerable  good  thing  of  it.  In 
Greece  and  Rome,  sorcery  and  its  kindred  arts  were  exten 
sively  resorted  to  ;  and  even  till  recent  times  such  incanta 
tions  were  practised  in  some  of  the  most  polished  countries 
of  Europe. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  men  in  early  ages  of  civilization 
should  ascribe  the  curative  art  to  the  potency  of  some  unseen 
and  supernatural  agency,  since  the  diseases  incident  to  the 
human  family  were  supposed  to  be  the  result  of  the  ire  of  the 
heathen  deities.  Magic,  remarks  one  of  the  classic  writers,  was 
the  offspring  of  medicine,  and  after  having  fortified  itself  with 
the  help  of  astrology,  borrowed  all  its  splendor  and  authority 
from  religion.  It  is  seldom  now  that  we  find  the  two  profes 
sions  comlu'ued — the  cure  of  the  body  with  that  of  the  soul  ; 
but  in  former  ages  they  seem  to  have  been  intimately  allied  : 
so  mujh  so,  indeed,  that  the  early  fathers  of  medicine  were 
accounted  worthy  of  deification.  Amulets  and  charms,  and 
consecrated  relics,  so  rife  in  superstitious  times,  served  to  test 
the  credulity  and  ignorant  subjection  of  the  popular  mind. 
Different  kinds  of  materials  were  used  by  different  people,  but 
all  agreed  as  to  their  faith  in  their  efficacy,  as  preventives 
against  infection  or  disease,  as  well  as  their  potency  for  the 
removal  of  maladies.  The  ignorant,  however,  were  not  alone 
liable  to  become  the  victims  of  the  pleasing  delusion,  for  we 
have  testimony  to  prove  that  several  of  the  learned  were  of 
this  class,  and  Lord  Bacon  among  the  number. 

Speaking  of  charms,  we  might  mention  the  case  of  a  silly 
old  woman,  who,  according  to  Dr.  Sigmond,  applied  for  a 
remedy  for  an  affection  of  the  breast  ;  a  prescription  was  given 
her,  and  a  few  days  after,  she  returned  to  offer  her  grateful 
thanks  for  the  cure  it  had  effected.  Would  it  be  believed,  that 
she  merely  tied  said  prescription  round  her  neck  !  It  is  stated 
in  Tirnb's  Popular  JUrrors,  that  the  fourth  book  of  the  Iliad 
has  often  cured  intermittent  fevers  in  this  way  ;  the  strength 
of  the  language  no  less  than  the  warmth  of  action  that  per- 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF      MEDICINE.  153 


vades  this  portion  of  Homer's  magnificent  poem  being  such, 
that  it  was,  on  one  occasion,  metaphorically  said  to  be  sufficient 
to  cure  a  sick  man  of  the  ague.  Some  sapient  individuals,  not 
comprehending  poetic  tropes  and  figures,  actually  converted 
this  saying  into  a  grave  reality. 

Pliny  speaks  of  one  Chrysippas,  reputed  a  famous  practi 
tioner  of  his  day,  who  gained  his  notoriety  by  advocating  cal 
lages  as  the  panacea  for  all  complaints  !  The  practice  of 
physic,  it  must  be  apparent,  is  easily  susceptible  of  being  made 
the  occasion  of  cheat  and  imposture.  Abernethy,  on  being 
appealed  to  by  a  patient  on  behalf  of  her  fancied  indisposition, 
had  the  frankness  (after  taking  his  guinea  fee)  to  state  that 
her  symptoms  merely  indicated  the  absence  of  health  and  also 
of  disease,  and  handing  her  back  a  shilling,  advised  her  to  get  a 
skipping-rope,  and  use  it  !  It  is  a  singular  enigma  in  human 
nature — that  tendency  of  yielding  one's-self  to  the  pleasing  delu 
sions  of  a  cheat,  even  though  the  deception  may  be  revealed, 
or  at  least  fairly  suspected.  Dr.  Parr  defined  the  term  quack, 
as  being  applicable  to  all  who,  by  pompous  pretences,  mean 
insinuations,  and  indirect  promises,  endeavor  to  obtain  that 
confidence  to  which  neither  education,  merit,  nor  experience 
entitle  them.  As  long,  therefore,  as  this  innate  love  of  the 
mysterious  obtains  among  men,  charlatanism  will,  to  a  greater 
or  less  degree,  exist  ;  and  anomalous  as  it  is,  often  the  most 
cultivated  and  enthusiastic  minds  are  the  readiest  victims  of 
the  cheat.  Walpole  says  that  acute  and  sensible  people  are 
frequently  the  most  easily  deceived  by  quacks.  A  recent 
writer,  referring  to  the  success  which  generally  attends  any 
daring  and  impudent  imposture,  remarks  :  "  If  the  cheat  required 
ingenuity  to  detect  it,  there  might  be  some  hope  for  mankind  ; 
but  it  actually  lies  concealed  in  its  very  obviousness." 

Physicians  were  formerly  ecclesiastics.  A  curious  instance 
of  preferring  the  medical  to  the  clerical  profession,  from  the 
conceit  of  supposed  destiny,  is  thus  related  : 

"  Andrew  Rudiger,  a  physician  of  Leipsic,  took  it  into  his 


154  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


head  to  form  an  anagram  on  his  name  ;  and  in  the  words 
Andreas  Rudigcrus  he  found  a  vocation,  namely,  lArnre  rus 
Dei  dignns."1  Thereupon  he  concluded  that  he  was  called  to 
the  priesthood,  and  began  to  study  theology.  Soon  after,  he 
became  tutor  to  the  children  of  the  learned  Thomasius.  This 
philosopher  one  day  told  him  that  he  had  much  better  apply  to 
medicine.  Rudiger  admitted  his  inclination  to  that  profession, 
but  stated  that  the  anagram  of  his  name — which  he  explained 
to  Thomasius — had  seemed  to  him  a  divine  vocation  to  the 
priesthood.  '  What  a  simpleton  you  arc  !'  said  Thomasius  ; 
'  why,  'tis  the  very  anagram  of  your  name  that  calls  you  to 
medicine.  Rns  Dei — is  not  that  the  In  rial-ground'!  And  who 
ploughs  it  better  than  the  doctors?'  In  effect,  Rndiger  turned 
doctor,  unable  to  resist  the  interpretation  of  his  anagram."* 

Jn  Egypt,  medicine  was  (Vttered  by  absurd  regulations.  Tin- 
chief  priests  confined  themselves  to  the  exercise  of  magic  rites 
and  prophecies,  which  they  considered  the  higher  branches  of 
the  art,  and  left  the  exhibition  of  remedies  to  the  pastophori,  or 
image-bearers.  They  were  compelled  to  follow  implicitly  the 
medical  precepts  of  the  sacred  records  contained  in  the  "  her- 
metical  books,"  a  deviation  from  which  was  punishable  with 
death.  From  a  superstitious  dread  of  evil,  aud  a  desire  to 
penetrate  into  futurity,  arose  the  mystic  divination  of  Greece 
and  Home,  as  well  as  that  of  the  Druids.  This  divination 
assumed  the  sanctity  of  a  religious  ceremony,  and  thus  priests 
became  invested  with  a  supposed  supernatural  power  for  the 
cure  of  diseases.  Thus,  magic  and  medicine  were  allied  with 
astrology  and  religion. 

Among  other  delusions,  was  that  of  the  royal  gift  of  healing. 
It  has  been  remarked  as  singular,  that,  with  the  vulgar  errors 
exposed  by  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  in  his  Psendodoxia  Epidemicn, 
there  should  be  no  mention  made  of  this  ;  but,  from  a  case 
related  in  the  Adenochmraddogia,  it  would  seem  that  this  eccen 
tric  but  able  man  had  himself  faith  in  the  touch,  inasmuch  as 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF      MEDICINE. 


he  recommended  the  child  of  a  nonconformist,  in  Norfolk,  who 
had  been  long  under  his  care,  without  receiving  benefit,  to  be 
taken  to  the  king  (Charles  II.),  then  at  Bruges.  The  father 
having  no  faith,  however,  in  the  efficacy  of  such  intervention, 
the  child  was  secretly  conveyed  to  the  king,  and  being  sub 
mitted  to  the  royal  touch,  was  returned,  it  is  said,  perfectly 
healed.  The  father,  upon  hearing  the  result,  exclaimed — 
"  Farewell  to  all  dissenters  and  nonconformists  :  if  God  puts 
such  virtue  into  the  king's  hand  for  the  healing  of  my  child, 
I'll  serve  that  God  and  that  king,  as  long  as  I  live,  and  with 
nil  thankfulness."  Sir  Thomas  Browne  was  not  the  only  emi 
nent  man  susceptible  of  gross  delusion  :  it  is  less  surprising 
that  the  illiterate  should  bo  duped. 

In  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  many  of  the  medical  practition 
ers  were  mere  horse-farriers.  A  distinguished  patient,  the 
great  Lord  Burghley,  secretary  of  state  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  was 
addressed  by  one  Audelay,  on  a  certain  occasion,  in  this  wise, 
"  Be  of  goode  comfort,  and  plucke  up  a  lustie,  merrie  hearte, 
and  then  shall  you  overcome  all  diseases  :  and  because  it 
pleased  my  good  Lord  Admiral  lately  to  praise  my  physicke, 
I  have  written  to  you  such  medicines  as  I  wrote  unto  him, 
which  I  have  in  my  boke  of  my  wyffe's  hand,  proved  upon  her 
self  e  and  met,  both  ;  and  if  I  can  get  anything  that  may  do  you 
any  goode,  you  may  bo  well  assured  it  shall  be  a  joye  unto  me 
to  get  it  for  you."  "  A  goode  medicine  for  weakness  or  con 
sumption  : — take  a  pig  of  nine  days  olde,  and  slaye  him,  and 
quarter  him,  and  put  him  in  a  skillat,  with  a  handfull  of  spear  - 
ment,  and  a  handfull  of  red  fennel,  a  handfull  of  liverwort,  half 
a  handfull  of  red  neap,  a  handfull  of  clarge,  and  nine  dates, 
cleaned,  picked,  and  pared,  and  a  handfull  of  great  raisins,  and 
picke  out  the  stonos,  and  a  quarter  of  an  ounce  of  mace,  and 
two  stickes  of  goode  cinnamon,  bruised  in  a  mortar,  and  distill 
it  with  a  soft  fire,  and  put  it  in  a  glass,  and  set  it  in  the  sun 
nine  days,  and  drinke  nine  spoonfulls  of  it  at  once  when  you 
list !"  "A  compost  : — item— take  a  porpin,  otherwise  culled 


156  SALAD      FOR      THK      SOCIAL. 


an  English  hedge-hog,  and  quarter  him  in  pieces,  and  put  the 
said  beast  in  a  still,  with  these  ingredients  :  item — a  quart  of 
redde  wyne,  a  pinte  of  rose-water,  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of 
sugar — cinnamon  and  two  great  raisins."  "  If  there  be  any 
manner  of  disease  that  you  be  aggrieved  withal,  I  praye  you 
send  me  some  knowledge  thereof,  and  1  doubt  not  but  to  send 
you  an  approved  remedie.  Written  in  haste  at  Greenwiche,  y" 
9  of  May,  1553,  by  your  trewe  heartie  frieude,  JOHX  of 
AUDELAY/' 

In  Percy's  Reliques  we  are  informed  as  to  what  was  common 
regarding  medical  lore  in  those  days,  namely,  that  the  healing 
art  was  enacted  by  young  princes  ;  the  practice  being  regarded 
"  as  commendable  to  real  manners,  it  being  derived  from  the 
earliest  times,  among  all  the  Gothick  and  Celtic  nations,  for 
women,  even  of  the  highest  ranke,  to  exercise  the  arte  of  sur- 
gerie."  Formerly,  medical  practitioners  obtained  their  licences 
from  the  bishops  of  the  diocese  in  which  they  resided.  Burton, 
in  his  Anatomic,  of  jMdancholie,  notices  many  curious  receipes 
and  "  Bookes  of  Physicke  "  One  work,  entitled  The.  Queen's 
Closet  Opened,  containing  "  divers  things  necessary  to  be 
knowne,  collected  out  of  sundrie  olcle  written  bookes,  and 
broughte  into  one  order.  The  several  things  herein  contayned 
may  be  seen  in  the  bookes  and  tables  following,  written  in  the 
yeare  of  our  Lorde  God  1610."  The  work  commences  with 
the  "thirty-three  evil  dayes"  of  the  yeare,  and  a  general 
calendar  ;  there  is  a  curious  medley  of  rules  about  the  weather, 
astronomical  calculations  and  prognostications.  The  first  book 
has  this  :  "  A  coppye  of  all  such  medicines  wherewith  ye  noble 
Countess  of  Oxenforde,  most  charitably,  in  her  owne  person, 
did  raanye  greate  and  notable  cures  upon  poore  ueighboures." 
The  second  book  is  entitled,  "  Here  beginneth  a  true  coppye 
of  such  medicines  wherewith  Mrs.  Johan  Ounsteade,  daughter 
unto  the  worshipfule  Mr.  John  Olliffe,  Alderman  of  London, 
hath  cured  and  healed  manye  forlorne  and  deadlie  diseases," 
&c.  A  few  extracts  from  the  above  will  show  the  then  state 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF      M  EDICT  XE.  157 


of  medical  science,  as  contrasted  with  that  of  the  present  day  : 
"  To  take  away  frekels — take  the  blonde  of  an  hare,  annoynte 
them  with  it,  and  it  will  doe  them  away."  "  For  a  man  or 
woman  that  hath  lost  theire  speeche — take  wormwood,  and 
stampe  it,  and  temper  it  with  water,  and  strayne  it,  and  with 
a  spoone  doe  of  it  into  theire  mouthes." 

The  laborious  professional  study  of  the  matriculated  physi 
cian  is  unsought  by  the  qviack — he,  Pallas-like,  all  armed  from 
the  brain  of  Jove,  rushes  into  his  reckless  practice,  "  encased  all 
over  in  native  brass,  from  top  to  toe,"  but  wholly  destitute  is 
he  of  the  requisite  skill  for  his  office.  He  knows  not  even  the 
alphabet  of  medicine  ;  yet,  defiant  of  reason  and  responsibility, 
his  supposed  intuitive  wit  and  arrogance  prevail.  It  has  been 
said,  however,  with  truth,  that  the  followers  of  quacks  are  the 
cause  of  quackery  :  they  are  the  cause  of  the  numberless  homi 
cides  that  have  been  committed  with  such  impunity.  These 
are  skeptics  of  the  faculty,  but  idolaters  of  the  empiricism. 
These  deluded  patients  persevere  with  a  pertinacity  that  is 
invincible,  till  they  discover,  too  late,  that  they  have  been 
advancing,  as  the  Irishman  said,  backwards.  As  illustrative 
of  the  reckless  wickedness  of  these  pseudo-doctors,  we  present 
the  following  instances.  The  Duke  de  Rohan,  while  in  Swit 
zerland,  had  occasion  to  send  for  a  physician — the  most  famous 
of  the  day  came  to  him,  styling  himself  Monsieur  Thibaud. 
"Your  face,"  said  the  Duke,  "seems  familiar  to  me;  pray, 
where  have  I  seen  you  before  ?"  "  At  Paris,  perhaps,  my  Lord 
Duke,"  he  replied,  "  when  I  had  the  honor  to  be  farrier  to 
your  grace's  stables.  I  have  now  a  great  reputation  as  a  phy 
sician  ;  I  treat  the  Swiss  as  I  used  to  do  your  horses,  and  I 
find,  in  general,  I  succeed  as  well.  I  must  request  your  grace 
not  to  make  me  known,  for  if  you  do,  I  shall  be  ruined  P 
There  was  a  notorious  charlatan  at  Paris,  some  years  ago, 
named  Mantaccini,  who,  after  having  squandered  his  patri 
mony,  sought  to  retrieve  his  fortune  by  turning  quack.  He 
started  his  carriage,  and  made  tours  round  the  country,  pomp- 


158  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


ously  professing  to  effect  cures  of  all  diseases  with  a  single 
touch,  or  a  simple  look.  Failing  in  this  bold  essay,  he  attempted 
another  yet  more  daring — that  of  reviving  the  dead,  at  will  ! 
To  remove  all  doubt,  he  declared  that,  in  fifteen  days,  he  would 
go  to  the  churchyard,  and  restore  to  life  its  inhabitants,  though 
buried  fifteen  years.  This  declaration  excited  a  general  rumor 
and  murmur  against  the  doctor,  who,  not  in  the  least  discon 
certed,  applied  to  the  magistrate,  and  requested  that  he  might 
be  put  under  a  guard  to  prevent  his  escape,  until  he  should 
perform  his  undertaking.  The  proposition  inspired  the  greatest 
confidence,  and  the  whole  city  came  to  consult  the  clever 
empiric,  and  purchase  his  baume  de  vie.  His  consultations  were 
most  numerous  ;  and  he  received  large  sums  of  money.  At 
length,  the  noted  day  approached,  and  the  doctor's  valet, 
fearing  for  his  shoulders,  began  to  manifest  signs  of  uneasiness. 
"  You  know  nothing  of  mankind,"  said  the  quack  to  his  ser 
vant  ;  "  be  quiet."  Scarcely  had  he  spoken  the  words,  when 
the  following  letter  was  presented  to  him  from  a  rich  citizen  : 
"  Sir,  the  great  operation  you  are  about  to  perform  has  broken 
my  rest.  I  have  a  wife  buried  for  some  time,  who  was  a  fury, 
and  I  am  unhappy  enough  already,  without  her  resurrection. 
In  the  name  of  heaven,  do  not  make  the  experiment.  I  will  give 
you  fifty  louis  to  keep  your  secret  to  yourself."  Soon  after,  two 
dashing  beaux  arrived,  who  urged  him  with  the  most  earnest 
entreaties  not  to  raise  their  old  father,  formerly  the  greatest 
miser  in  the  city,  as,  in  such  an  event,  they  would  be  reduced 
to  the  most  deplorable  indigence.  They  offered  him  a  fee  of 
sixty  louis  ;  but  the  doctor  shook  his  head  in  doubtful  compli 
ance.  Scarcely  had  they  retired,  when  a  young  widow,  on  the 
eve  of  matrimony,  threw  herself  at  the  feet  of  the  quack,  and, 
with  sobs  and  sighs,  implored  his  mercy.  In  short,  from  morn 
till  night,  he  received  letters,  visits,  presents,  and  fees,  to  an 
excess  which  absolutely  overwhelmed  him.  The  minds  of  the 
citizens  were  differently  and  violently  agitated  :  some  by  fear, 
and  others  by  curiosity,  so  that  tl««  mayor  of  the  city  waited 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF     MEDICINE.  159 


upon  the  doctor,  and  said  :  "  Sir,  I  have  not  the  least  doubt, 
from  uiy  experience  of  your  rare  talents,  that  you  will  be  able 
to  accomplish  the  resurrection  in  our  churchyard,  the  day  after 
to-morrow,  according  to  your  promise  ;  but  I  pray  you  to 
observe  that  our  city  is  in  the  utmost  uproar  and  confusion  ; 
and  to  consider  the  dreadful  revolution  your  experiment  must 
produce  in  every  family  :  I  entreat  you,  therefore,  not  to 
attempt  it,  but  to  go  away,  and  thus  restore  tranquillity  to  the 
city.  In  justice,  however,  to  your  rare  and  divine  talents,  I 
shall  give  you  an  attestation,  in  due  form,  under  our  seal,  that 
you  can  revive,  the  dead,  and  that  it  was  our  own  fault  we  were 
not  eye-witnesses  of  your  power."  This  certificate,  our  author 
ity  continues,  was  duly  signed  and  delivered.  The  illustrious 
Mantaccini  left  Lyons,  for  other  cities,  to  work  new  miracles 
and  manoeuvres.  In  a  short  time,  he  returned  to  Paris,  loaded 
with  gold,  laughing  at  the  credulity  of  his  victims.  One  more 
citation  of  the  kind.  Count  Cagliostro  aud  his  wife  made  their 
debut  at  St.  Petersburg,  pretending  to  a  power  of  conferring 
perpetual  youth  —  investing  old  people  with  rejuvenescence. 
The  countess,  who  was  not  more  than  twenty,  spoke  of  her 
son,  who  had  long  served  in  the  army.  This  expedient  of 
muking  old  people  young  again  could  not  fail  to  affect 
certain  aged  ladies,  who  are  expert  in  diminishing  instead  of 
adding  to  their  years.  This  experiment  npon  popular  credulity 
did  not,  however,  last  long  ;  but  it  yielded  a  golden  harvest 
while  it  continued. 

Among  notable  and  eccentric  physicians  of  former  times,  was 
Jerome  Cardan  of  Milan,  who  flourished,  and  physicked  the 
valetudinarians  of  the  sixteenth  century.  In  the  Dictionnaire 
Historique,  de  la  Mededne,  we  have  the  following  summary  of 
the  qualities  and  accomplishments  of  our  quondam  physician  : — 
"  His  immense  knowledge  and  extraordinary  sagacity,  his  free 
dom  of  thought,  and  his  style,  in  general,  manly  and  spirited, 
would  place  him  at  the  head  of  the  celebrated  writers  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  if  he  had  not  united  with  these  qualities  a 


160  SALAD   FOR  THE   SOCIAL. 


decided  love  of  paradox  and  of  the  marvellous,  an  infantile 
credulity,  a  superstition  scarcely  conceivable,  an  insupportable 
vanity,  and  a  boasting  that  knew  no  limits.  His  works,  full 
of  puerilities,  of  lies,  of  contradictions,  of  absurd  tales,  and 
charlatanry  of  every  description,  nevertheless  offer  proofs  of  a 
bold,  inventive  genius,  which  seeks  for  new  paths  of  science, 
and  succeeds  in  finding  them."  Leibnitz  is  reported  to  have 
said  of  him,  that,  with  all  his  puerilities,  he  was  a  great  man. 

The  intellectual  character  of  Cardan  presents  a  problem 
sufficiently  intricate  to  excite  the  labors  of  a  biographer  ;  and 
when  we  add  that  his  life,  also,  was  full  of  various  incidents — 
that  he  endured  the  extreme  of  misfortune,  and  rose  to  the 
height  of  professional  honor — that  he  was  battling  throughout 
his  life  both  with  men  and  with  books,  we  need  not  wonder 
that  he  became  notorious. 

His  name  has  been  placed  in  succession  to  that  of  Galen, 
who  was  the  great  authority  when  he  made  his  professional 
appearance.  His  first  book  bore  the  title  De  Malo  Medendi 
Usa — denouncing  seventy-two  errors  in  existing  practice  ! 
Most  of  his  corrections,  have  been  re-corrected  by  his  suc 
cessors.  Astrology  by  no  means  satisfied  his  thirst  for  divi 
nation.  He  had  a  system  of  Cheiromancy,  and  was  very 
profound  on  the  lines  in  the  human  hand,  and  a  science  com 
pletely  his  own,  which  he  called  Metoposcopy.  The  following 
extract  will  show  that  the  character  and  fortunes  of  an  indi 
vidual  are  thus  revealed  by  the  lines  in  his  forehead  : 

"  Seven  lines,  drawn  at  equal  distances,  one  above  another, 
horizontally  across  the  whole  forehead,  beginning  close  over 
the  eyes,  indicate  respectively  the  regions  of  the  Moon, 
Mercury,  Venus,  the  Sun,  Mars,  Jupiter,  and  Saturn.  Thy 
signification  of  each  planet  is  always  the  same,  and  forehead- 
reading  is  thus  philosophically  allied  to  the  science  of  palm 
istry." 

It  is  related  of  a  certain  quack,  in  some  country  town  in 
England,  that  he  resorted  to  the  following  expedient,  for  ere- 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF      MEDICINE.  161 


ating  a  little  notoriety,  by  way  of  a  start.  On  his  arrival,  he 
announced  himself  by  sending  the  bell-man — an  official  of  great 
importance  in  former  times — to  disturb  the  quiet  of  the  honest 
people  of  the  place,  by  proclaiming  the  reward  of  fifty  guineas 
for  the  recovery  of  his  pet  poodle  ;  of  course,  the  physician  who 
could  be  so  lavish  with  his  money  for  such  a  trifling  purpose, 
could  not  but  be  a  man  of  preeminence  in  his  profession. 
Millingen  records  the  curious  fact  of  two  miracle-working  doc 
tors  having  taken  London  by  storm,  many  years  ago,  who  laid 
claim  to  the  unpronounceable  and  most  outrageous  names 
of  Tctrachymagogon  and  Fellino  Gujfino  Cardimo  Cardimac 
Frames  ( \ ),  which  were  plastered  about  the  walls  of  the  city, 
exciting  the  amazement  and  curiosity  of  the  gullible  multitude. 
Another  announced  himself  by  placards,  appealing  to  the  sym 
pathies  of  the  selfish,  to  the  'effect  that  he  had  studied  thirty 
years  by  candle-light  for  the  good  of  his  countrymen;  which  issue 
may  possibly  have  been  deemed  a  debateable  point.  He 
claimed  to  have  been  the  seventh-son  of  a  seventh-son — and 
to  have  been  exclusively  possessed  of  sundry  certain  cures  ; 
among  others,  that  of  hernia. 

The  following  poetical  version  of  a  quack-doctor's  profes 
sional  scope  may  be  familiar  to  some  readers  : 

"  Advice  given  gratis,  from  ten  until  four, 
Teeth  also  extracted  (for  nothing,  if  poor). 
Prescriptions  prepared  with  care  and  ability, 
And  patients  attended  with  skill  and  civility. 
Tonics,  narcotics,  and  anti-splenetics, 
Anti-spasmodics,  sarcotics,  emetics, 
With  cures  for  blue  devils,  by  a  clever  pathologist, 
Dispensed  with  great  care  by  a  young  anthropologist." 

Among  the  accidental  circumstances  to  which  some  of  the 
fraternity  have  been  indebted  for  their  first  successful  debut,  we 
may  refer  to  the  following  case  of  Dr.  Case,  which  briefly  con 
sisted  in  his  having  the  lines  "  Within  this  place  lives  Doctor 


162  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


Case"  written  in  large  characters  upou  his  door  :  he  is  said  to 
have  acquired  a  fortune  by  the  quaint  expedient.  Another 
disciple  of  Esculapius  tumbled  into  a  good  practice  through  a 
fit  of  intoxication.  Disappointed  on  his  first  arrival  in  Lon 
don,  he  sought  to  drown  his  sorrows  in  muddy  ale,  at  a 
neighboring  tavern  ;  while  there,  being  still  under  the  e fleet 
of  his  "potations  deep,"  he  was  summoned  to  attend  a 
certain  countess.  The  high-sounding  title  of  this  unex 
pected  patient  tended  not  a  little  to  increase  the  excitement 
under  which  he  labored  :  he  followed  the  liveried  servant  as 
steadily  as  he  could,  and  was  ushered  in  silence  into  a  noble 
mansion,  where  her  ladyship's  female  attendant  anxiously 
waited  to  conduct  him  most  discreetly  to  her  mistress'  room. 
Her  agitatiou  preventing  her  discovering  the  doctor's  tendency 
to  describe  imaginary  circles  and  curves  in  preference  to  a 
direct  course.  He  was  introduced  into  a  splendid  bed-cham 
ber,  and  staggering  up  to  the  aristocratical  patient,  he  com 
menced  the  mechanical  process  of  feeling  the  pulse,  etc.  ;  but 
on  proceeding  to  the  table  to  write  a  prescription  his  weakness 
betrayed  him.  In  vain  he  strove  to  trace  the  salutary  charac 
ters,  until,  wearied  in  his  attempts,  he  at  length  threw  down 
the  pen,  exclaiming,  "Drunk,  'pon  honor!''1  and  he  made  the 
best  of  his  way  out  of  the  house.  Two  days  after,  he  was  not 
a  little  surprised  at  receiving  a  letter  from  his  illustrious 
patient,  enclosing  a  check  for  £100,  and  promising  him  the 
patronage  of  her  family  and  friends,  if  he  would  but  observe 
the  strictest  secrecy  as  to  the  condition  in  which  he  found  her. 
The  patient  and  her  physician  were  in  the  same  predicament, 
but  by  a  strange  obliquity  in  the  lady,  the  doctor's  intoxica 
tion  was  of  a  milder  type  than  his  patient's. 

The  next  instance  we  have  to  introduce  to  our  friends 
rejoiced  in  the  not  uncommon  name  of  Graham,  who,  in  the 
year  1782,  made  a  great  sensation  in  London.  He  was  gifted 
with  great  fluency  of  speech,  and  indulged  in  towering  hyper 
bole  and  bombast,  with  which  he  sought  to  guJl  the  wonder- 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF      MEDICINE.  163 


loving  multitude.  He  opened  a  splendid  mansion  in  Pall-mall, 
which  he  styled  the  "Temple  of  Health."  The  front  was 
ornamented  with  an  enormous  gilt  sun,  a  statue  of  Hygeia, 
and  other  attractive  emblems  ;  the  suite  of  rooms  in  the 
interior  was  superbly  furnished,  and  the  walls  decorated  with 
mirrors,  so  as  to  confer  on  the  place  an  effect  like  that  of 
an  enchanted  palace.  Here  he  delivered  lectures  on  health,  at 
the  extravagant  price  of  two  guineas  per  lecture  ;  yet  the 
price,  together  with  the  novelty  of  the  subjects,  drew  together 
considerable  audiences  of  the  wealthy  and  dissipated.  He 
entertained  a  female,  whom  he  called  the  goddess  of  health  ; 
and  it  was  her  business  to  deliver  a  concluding  discourse,  after 
the  doctor  himself  had  delivered  his  lecture. 

He  hired  two  men  of  extraordinary  stature,  provided  with 
enormous  cocked-hats,  and  with  showy  liveries,  whose  business 
it  was  to  distribute  bills,  from  house  to  house,  through  the  city. 
He  became,  therefore,  an  object  of  curiosity.  When  his  two- 
guinea  auditors  became  exhausted,  he  dropped  his  lectures 
successively  to  one  guinea,  half-a-guinea,  five  shillings,  and,  as 
he  said,  "for  the  benefit  of  all,"  to  half-a-crown  ;  and,  when  he 
could  no  longer  draw  at  this  price,  he  exhibited  the  temple 
itself  for  one  shilling,  to  daily  crowds,  for  several  months. 

Among  other  whimsicalities,  he  pretended  to  have  discovered 
the  "elixir  of  life,"  by  the  taking  of  a  quantum  of  which,  a 
person  might  live  as  long  as  he  wished.  His  terms  for  this  invalu 
able  invention,  were,  it  is  true,  rather  extravagant  for  common 
people — but,  of  course,  so  desirable  a  boon  ought  not  to  be 
made  too  cheap.  More  than  one  nobleman,  it  is  recorded, 
actually  paid  him  the  enormous  fee  of  one  thousand  pounds  ster 
ling  !  Rather  an  expensive  premium  for  the  purchase  of  a 
little  common  sense.  This  wonderful  discovery,  however,  did 
not  last  long,  for  the  delusion  soon  exploded,  and  the  quack 
himself  died,  after  vainly  practising  various  other  mumme 
ries,  at  the  age  of  fifty-two  years — neglected,  and  despised 
by  all. 
'  For  the  sake  of  variety,  we  will  glance  at  some  comical 


164  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


patients,  the  victims  of  mental  illusion,  hypochondria,  phan 
tasm,  and  monomania.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  inquire  into 
the  physical  causes  to  which  usually  these  maladies  are  to  be 
ascribed  :  we  cite  a  case,  from  the  numerous  instances  recorded 
by  Dr.  Rush,  of  mental  derangement,  and  for  the  accuracy  of 
which  he  vouches.  It  was  of  an  unfortunate  individual  who 
was  possessed  with  the  strange  conceit  that  he  was  once  a 
calf;  the  name  of  the  butcher  that  killed  him  being  given,  who 
kept  a  stall  in  Philadelphia  market,  at  which  place  was  sold, 
without  his  leave  or  license,  his  bodily  right  and  title,  previous 
to  his  inhabiting  his  present  "  fleshly  tabernacle."  We  do  not 
venture  into  the  region  of  spectral  illusions,  or  ghosts,  but  we 
may  mention,  in  passing,  the  case  of  a  crazy  young  lady, 
recorded  by  Dr.  Ferriar,  who  fancied  herself  accompanied  by 
her  own  apparition,  and  who  may,  of  course,  therefore,  justly 
be  said  to  have  been,  indeed,  often — beside  herself.  A  Lnsi- 
tanian  physician  had  a  patient  who  insisted  that  he  was  entirely 
frozen,  so  that  he  would  sit  before  a  large  Ore,  even  during  the 
dog-days,  and  yet  cry  of  cold.  A  dress  of  rough  sheep-skins, 
saturated  with  aqua  vita?,  was  made  for  him,  and  they  set  him 
on  fire :  he  then  confessed  that  he  was,  for  the  first  time,  quite 
warm — rather  too  much  so  ;  and  thus  this  genial  remedy 
cured  him  of  his  frigidity  altogether. 

The  following  ludicrous  story  is  told  in  the  London  Lancet : 
"  While  residing  at  Rome,"  says  the  narrator,  "  I  paid  a  visit 
to  the  lunatic  asylum  there,  and  among  the  remarkable  pa 
tients  was  one,  pointed  out  to  me,  who  had  been  saved,  with 
much  difficulty,  from  inflicting  death  upon  himself  by  voluntary 
starvation  in  bed,  under  an  impression  that  he  was  defunct, 
declaring  that  dead  people  never  eat.  It  was  soon  obvious  to 
all  that  the  issue  must  be  fatal,  when  the  humane  doctor 
bethought  of  the  following  stratagem  :  Half-a-dozen  of  the 
attendants,  dressed  in  white  shrouds,  and  their  faces  and  hands 
covered  with  chalk,  were  marched  in  single  file,  with  dead 
silence,  into  a  room  adjoining  that  of  the  patient,  where  he 
observed  them,  through  a  door  purposely  left  open,  sit  down 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF      MEDICINE.  165 


to  a  hearty  meal.  '  Hallo  !'  said  he.  that  was  deceased, 
presently  to  an  attendant  ;  '  who  be  they  ?'  '  Dead  men,'  was 
the  reply.  'What!'  rejoined  the  corpse,  'dead  men  eat?' 
'To  he  sure  they  do,  as  you  see,'  answered  the  attendant. 
'  If  that's  the  case  !'  exclaimed  the  defunct,  '  I'll  join  them,  for 
I'm  famished  ;'  and  thus  instantly  was  the  spell  broken." 

In  Poyntz's  World  of  Wonders,  we  find,  among  other 
remarkable  citations,  the  following  instance  recorded  of  an 
accomplished  somnambulist,  the  circumstances  of  which  are 
attested  by  a  beneficed  member  of  the  Roman  Catholic  church  : 
"  In  the  college  where  he  was  educated  was  a  young  seminarist 
who  habitually  walked  in  his  sleep  ;  and  while  in  a  state  of 
somnambulism,  used  to  sit  down  to  his  desk  and  compose  the 
most  eloquent  sermons  ;  scrupulously  erasing,  effacing,  or 
interlining,  whenever  an  incorrect  expression  had  fallen  from 
his  pen.  Though  his  eyes  were  apparently  fixed  upon  the 
paper  when  he  wrote,  it  was  clear  that  they  exercised  no 
optical  functions  ;  for  he  wrote  just  as  well  when  an  opaque 
substance  was  interposed  between  them  and  the  sheet  of  the 
paper.  Sometimes  an  attempt  was  made  to  remove  the  paper, 
in  the  idea  that  he  would  write  upon  the  desk  beneath.  But 
it  was  observed  that  he  instantly  discerned  the  change,  and 
sought  another  sheet  of  paper  as  nearly  as  possible  resembling 
the  former  one.  At  other  times  a  blank  sheet  of  paper  was 
substituted  by  the  bystanders  for  the  one  on  which  he  had  been 
writing  ;  in  which  case,  on  reading  over,  as  it  were,  his  compo 
sition,  he  was  sure  to  place  the  corrections,  suggested  by  the 
perusal,  at  precisely  the  same  intervals  they  would  have 
occupied  in  the  original  sheet  of  manuscript.  This  young 
priest,  moreover,  was  an  able  musician  ;  and  was  seen  to  com 
pose  several  pieces  of  music  while  in  a  state  of  somnambulism, 
drawing  the  lines  of  the  music-paper  for  the  purpose  with  a 
ruler,  and  pen  and  ink,  and  filling  the  spaces  with  his  notes 
with  the  utmost  precision,  besides  a  careful  adaptation  of  the 
words  in  vocal  pieces.  On  one  occasion  the  somnambulist 


166  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


dreamed  that  he  sprang  into  the  river  to  save  a  drowning 
child  ;  and,  on  his  bed,  he  was  seen  to  imitate  the  movement  of 
swimming.  Seizing  the  pillow,  he  appeared  to  snatch  it  from 
the  waves  and  lay  it  on  the  shore.  The  night  was  intensely 
cold  ;  and  so  severely  did  he  appear  affected  by  the  imaginary 
chill  of  the  river  as  to  tremble  in  every  limb  ;  and  his  state  of 
cold  and  exhaustion,  when  roused,  was  so  alarming,  that  it 
was  judged  necessary  to  administer  wine  and  other  restora 
tives." 

A  young  man  had  a  strange  imagination  that  he  was  dead, 
and  earnestly  begged  his  friends  to  bury  him.  They  consented 
by  the  advice  of  the  physician.  lie  was  laid  upon  a  bier,  and 
carried  upon  the  shoulders  of  men  to  church,  when  some  plea 
sant  fellows,  up  to  the  business,  met  the  procession,  and  inquired 
who  it  was  ;  they  answered  : — "  And  a  very  good  job  it  is," 
said  one  of  them,  "for  the  world  is  well  rid  of  a  very  bad  and 
vicious  character,  which  the  gallows  must  have  had  in  due 
course."  The  young  man,  now  lying  dead,  hearing  this,  popped 
his  head  up,  and  said  they  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  themselves 
in  thus  traducing  his  fair  fame,  and  if  he  was  alive,  he  would 
thrash  them  for  their  insolence.  But  they  proceeded  to  utter 
the  most  disgraceful  and  reproachful  language,  dead  flesh  and 
blood  could  no  longer  bear  it ;  up  he  jumps,  they  run,  he  after 
them,  until  he  fell  down  quite  exhausted.  He  was  put  to  bed; 
the  violent  exertion  he  had  gone  through  promoted  perspiration, 
and  he  got  well.* 

It  is  pertinent  to  our  subject  to  refer,  perhaps,  to  the  ana 
logy  and  reciprocal  influence  of  the  body  and  soul — mind  and 
matter.  That  such  analogy  exists,  and  exhibits  itself  in  a  most 
indubitable  manner,  exerting  also  a  most  powerful  sympathy, 
none,  of  course,  will  question  ;  were  it  otherwise  a  matter  in 
dispute,  we  might  offer  many  able  suggestions  proposed  by 
various  physicians  and  metaphysicians  ;  but  we  shall  content 
ourselves  by  simply  quoting  a  passage  on  the  subject,  from 

*  Heywood'a  Hierarchy. 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF      MEDICINE.  167 


Ha  slum,  iu  his  work  on  Sound  Mind.  Referring  to  these 
curious  analogies,  he  says — "  There  seems  to  be  a  considerable 
similarity  between  the  morbid  state  of  the  instruments  of 
voluntary  motion  (i.  e.  the  body),  and  certain  affections  of  the 
mental  powers.  Thus,  paralysis  has  its  counterpart  in  the 
defects  of  recollection,  where  the  utmost  endeavor  to  remember 
is  ineffectually  exerted.  Tremor  may  be  compared  with  inca 
pability  of  fixing  the  attention  ;  and  this  involuntary  state  of 
the  muscles,  ordinarily  subjected  to  the  will,  also  finds  a 
parallel  where  the  miiid  loses  its  influence  in  the  train  of 
thought,  and  becomes  subject  to  spontaneous  intrusions  :  as 
may  be  exemplified  in  reveries,  dreaming,  and  some  species  of 
madness."  Excessive  irritation  of  the  brain  is  the  result  of 
inordinate  mental  excitement  ;  the  physical  economy  thus 
becomes  deranged,  and  this  condition  of  bodily  disease  again 
reacts  prejudicially  on  the  mental  powers.  These  effects  are 
more  or  less  observable  under  different  conditions,  much 
depending  on  organic  structure,  constitutional  predisposition, 
climate,  or  the  peculiar  circumstances  by  which  the  individual 
may  be  surrounded.  While  the  effects,  however,  of  this  recip 
rocal  influence  of  mind  and  matter  are  apparent,  the  cause 
remains  unrevealed  ;  and  to  this  fact  may  be  referred  the 
many  ludicrous  blunders  and  wild  imaginings  of  sundry  wise 
acres,  who  have  sought  to  account  for  a  matter  so  occult.  So 
inscrutable  and  all-pervading  is  this  union  and  sympathy 
between  the  "  fleshly  tabernacle  "  and  its  noble  occupant,  that 
in  essaying  to  address  any  part  of  the  fabric,  the  dweller  is 
inevitably  found  to  respond  to  the  appeal.  Physiologists  tell 
us  that  our  imagination  is  freest  when  the  stomach  is  but 
slightly  replenished  with  food  ;  it  is  also  more  healthful  in 
spring  than  in  winter  ;  in  solitude  than  in  company  ;  and  in 
modulated  light,  rather  than  in  the  full  blaze  of  the  noonday 
sun.  Climate  affects  the  temper,  because  it  first  influences  the 
muscular  system  and  the  animal  solids  ;  and  who  does  not 
know  that  our  happiness  and  repose  are  dependent  upon  the 


168  SALAD       FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


well-balanced  condition  of  the  biliary  system.  In  such  cases,  it 
is  the  province  of  medicine' to  rectify  the  moral,  ar>  well  a,s  the 
physical  derangement  at  the  same  moment  of  time.  An  emi 
nent  physician  at  Leyden,  Dr.  Gaubius,  who  styled  himself 
'•  Professor  of  the  Passions,"  recites  a  curious  case  of  a  female 
patient,  upon  whom  he  repeatedly  enacted  venesection,  being 
of  an  inflammable  temperament,  as  avouched  by  her  liege-lord  ; 
which  operation,  he  says,  finally  induced  the  happiest  results. 
This  notable  practitioner  was  as  an  fait  at  metaphysics  as 
medicine  ;  he  cured  morals  and  manners,  as  well  as  maladies 
of  the  body.  Is  there  not,  therefore,  a  more  intimate  con 
nection  between  these  two  elements  of  our  being  than  has  been 
generally  admitted  ?  Dryden  confessed  his  indebtedness  to 
cathartics  for  the  propitiating  of  his  muse  ;  his  imaginative 
faculty  being  thus  dependent,  as  he  thought,  upon  the  elasticity 
of  his  viscera.  And  as  we  before  intimated,  there  are,  unques 
tionably,  constitutional  moral  disorders — such  as  temporary  or 
periodical  fits  of  passion,  or  melancholy,  as  well  as  other  impul 
sive  emotions  ;  these,  for  the  most  part,  are  involuntary,  or 
easily  provoked,  under  certain  exciting  circumstances.  A 
moral  patient,  who  suffers  himself  to  become  the  wretched 
victim  of  intemperance,  is  sure  to  need  only  opiates;  and 
nature,  in  due  time,  recovers  from  the  outrage,  although  he 
may  not  from  the  disgrace.  And  when  some  pitiable  wight  is 
found  suffering  from  the  master-passion,  love  (a  perfect  tyrant 
in  its  way,  which  usually  overturns  all  a  man's  common  sense, 
and  blinds  him  into  the  bargain),  the  unfortunate  one  is  sure 
to  come  "  right  side  up,"  in  his  sober  senses,  too,  by  adminis 
tering  the  process  of  a  cold  bath  in  the  river,  provided  some 
benevolent  by-stander  rescue  him  in  time  to  cheat  the  fishes. 
A  certain  Milanese  doctor  is  said  to  have  resorted  to  a  similar 
expedient  for  the  cure  of  madness  and  other  distempers.  His 
practice  consisted  in  placing  his  patients  in  a  great  high-walled 
enclosure,  in  the  midst  of  which  there  was  a  deep  well  of  water, 
as  cold  as  ire  into  which  his  unfortunate  victims  were  plunged, 


THE      MYSTERIES   OF   MEDICINE.  169 


being  secured  to  a  pillar  ;  when  they  were  thoroughly  satu 
rated,  and  their  courage  cooled,  they  were  liberated.  la  their 
bodily  fear  and  shock  they  generally  got  rid  of  their  com 
plaints. 

The  effects  of  the  imagination  upon  bodily  health  are 
already  familiar  to  the  reader. 

Bouchet,  a  French  author  of  the  sixteenth  century,  states 
that  the  physicians  at  Montpelier,  which  was  the  great  school 
of  medicine,  had  every  year  two  criminals,  the  one  living,  the 
other  dead,  delivered  to  them  for  dissection.  He  relates  that 
on  one  occasion  they  tried  what  effect  the  mere  expectation  of 
death  would  produce  upon  a  subject  in  perfect  health,  and  in 
order  to  these  experiments,  they  told  the  gentleman  (for  such 
was  his  rank),  who  was  placed  at  their  discretion,  that,  as  the 
easiest  mode  of  taking  away  his  life,  they  would  employ  the 
means  which  Seneca  had  chosen  for  himself,  and  would  there 
fore  open  his  veins  in  warm  water.  Accordingly,  they  covered 
his  face,  pinched  his  feet  without  lancing  them,  and  set  them  in 
a  footbath,  and  then  spoke  to  each  other  as  if  they  saw  blood 
flowing  freely,  and  life  departing  with  it.  Then  the  man 
remained  motionless  ;  and  when,  after  a  while,  they  uncovered 
his  face,  they  found  him  dead. 

Hope  and  success  are  finer  tonics  than  any  to  be  found  in 
the  apothecaries'  shops,  and  even  fear  may  boast  its  cures.  A 
German  physician,  so  reads  the  tale,  succeeded  in  curing  an 
epidemic  convulsion,  among  the  children  of  a  poor-house,  by  the 
fear  of  a  red-hot  poker.  The  fits  had  spread  by  sympathy  and 
imitation  ;  and  this  great  physician,  mistrusting  the  ordinary 
remedies  in  so  grave  a  case,  heated  his  instrument,  and  threat 
ened  to  burn  the  first  who  should  fall  into  a  fit.  The  convul 
sions  did  not  return. 

A  celebrated  scholar  was  once  attacked  with  fever  at  a  coun 
try  inn.  He  was  visited  by  two  physicians  ;  and  o::c>  of  them, 
supposing  from  the  poverty  of  his  appearance  that  he  would 
not  understand  a  foreign  language,  said  to  the  other,  in  Latin, 


170  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


"  Let's  try  an  experiment  on  this  poor  fellow."  As  soon  as 
they  were  gone,  the  patient  got  out  of  bed,  hurried  on  his 
clothes,  scampered  off  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  was  cured  of  his 
fever  by  his  fright. 

In  England,  quite  recently,  a  girl,  being  attacked  with 
typhus  fever,  was  sent  to  the  hospital.  A  week  afterwards, 
her  brother  was  seized  with  the  same  disease,  and  was  sent  to 
the  same  institution.  The  nurses  were  helping  him  np  the 
stairs  at  the  hospital.  On  the  way,  he  was  met  by  some  per 
sons  who  were  descending  with  a  coffin  on  their  shoulders. 
The  sick  man  inquired  whose  body  they  were  removing,  when 
one  of  the  bearers  inadvertently  mentioned  the  girl's  name. 
It  was  his  sister.  The  brother,  horror-struck,  sprung  from  his 
conductor's,  dashed  down  stairs,  out  of  the  hospital  gate,  and 
never  stopped  running  until  he  had  reached  home — a  distance 
of  twelve  miles  !  He  flung  himself  on  the  bed  immediately,  fell 
into  a  sound  sleep,  and  awoke  next  morning,  entirely  cured  of 
his  illness. 

Solomon  tells  us  that  "  a  merry  heart  doeth  good,  like  a 
medicine,"  and  experience  has  proved  it  to  be  a  panacea  for 
many  minor  ills.  Xot  a  few  of  the  Faculty  are  aware  of  the 
fact,  and  hence  they  have  achieved  marvellous  cures  by  their 
combination  of  puns,  potions,  and  pills.  A  renowned  physician 
of  New  York,  is  a  felicitous  illustration  of  this. 

Among  the  various  ills  which  flesh  is  heir  to,  apparently 
midway  between  the  mental  and  physical  is  the  headache — a 
malady  by  no  means  uncommon,  but  which  we  welcome  none 
the  more  from  its  frequency.  Like  a  cold  in  the  head,  it  is  no 
joke,  yet  some  wag  has  had  the  temerity  to  do  this,  in  the 
following  : 

"A  cold  in  the  head  ! 

What  need  be  said 
Uglier,  stupider,  more  ill-bred  : 
Almost  any  other  disease 
May  be  romantic,  if  you  please  ; 


THE     MYSTERIES      OF     MEDICINE.  171 


But  who  can  scoff 

At  a  very  bad  cough? 

If  you  have  a  fever,  you're  laid  on  the  shelf, 
To  be  sure — but  then  you  pity  yourself, 
And  your  friends'  anxiety  highly  excited, 
The  curtains  are  drawn,  and  the  chamber  lighted, 
Dimly,  and  softly,  pleasanter  far, 
Than  the  starving  sunshine  that  seems  to  jar 
Every  nerve  into  a  separate  knock, 

And  all  at  our  mortal  calamities  mock. 

****** 

Who  do  you  suppose 

Ever  pitied  a  man  for  blowing  his  nose  ? 
Yet,  what  minor  trial  could  ever  be  worse — 
Unless  it  be  reading  this  blundering  verse, 

Never  fit  to  be  written,  or  read  ; 

No — nor  said, 
Except  by  a  man — with  a  cold  in  his  head.'" 

Among  the  long  list  of  cases  in  the  Materia  Medica,  here  is  a 
new  and  fatal  one  :  During  the  prevalence  of  the  cholera  in 
Ireland,  a  soldier,  hurrying  into  the  mess-room,  told  his  com 
manding  officer  that  his  brother  had  been  carried  off,  two  days 
ago,  by  a  fatal  malady,  expressing  his  apprehensions  that  the 
whole  regiment  would  be  exposed  to  a  similar  danger,  in  the 
course  of  the  following  week.  "  Good  heavens  !"  ejaculated 
the  officer,  "what,  then,  did  he  die  of?"  "Why,  your  honor, 
he  died  of  a  Tuesday." 

An  extraordinary  case,  chronicled  by  Punch,  was  that  of  a 
voracious  individual  who  bolted  a  door,  and  threw  up  a 
window  ! 

There  are  other  maladies  that  afflict  us,  which  sometimes 
provoke  the  mirth  rather  than  the  pity  of  our  friends  ;  for 
instance,  how  comical  are  the  capers  of  a  victim  of  St.  Yitus' 
dance,  or  the  more  miserable  one  of  intemperance,  when  he 
labors  to  preserve  the  perpendicular,  or  to  disguise  his  condi 
tion.  But  we  must  not  sport  with  human  woe — rather  deplore 
its  presence,  and  seek  to  aid  in  its  reduction,  if  not  expulsion. 


172  SALAD     FOR     THE     SOCIAL. 


The  priest  and  the  physician  have  enough  to  do  in  the  mitiga 
tion  of  moral  and  physical  evil.  The  author  of  the  Tin  Trum 
pet  justly  observes  : 

"  There  would  be  but  little  comfort  for  the  sick,  either  in 
body  or  in  mind,  were  there  a^y  truth  in  the  averment,  that 
philosophy,  like  medicine,  has  plenty  of  drugs  and  quack-medi 
cines,  but  few  remedies,  and  hardly  any  specifics.  So  far  from 
admitting  this  discouraging  statement,  a  panacea  may  be  pre 
scribed  which,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  will  generally 
prevent,  and  rarely  fail  to  alleviate,  most  of  our  evils.  The 
following  are  the  simple  ingredients  :  occupation  for  the  mind, 
exercise  for  the  body,  temperance  and  virtue  for  the  sake  of 
both.  This  is  the  magnum  arcanum  of  health  and  happiness. 
Half  of  our  illness  and  misery  arises  from  the  perversion  of  that 
reason  which  was  given  to  us  as  a  protection  against  both." 

The  celebrated  Dumoulin  remarked,  on  his  death-bed,  that 
he  should  leave  behind  him  three  distinguished  physicians — 
Water,  Exercise,  and  Diet.  Sir  Philip  Sidney  defines  health  in 
these  words  :  "  Great  temperance,  open  air,  easy  labor,  little 
care." 

Hood  thus  playfully  prescribes  :  "  Take  precious  care  of  your 
precious  health ;  but  how,  as  the  housewife  says,  to  make  it  keep  ? 
Why,  then,  don't  smoke-dry  it,  or  pickle  it  in  everlasting  acids, 
like  the  Germans.  Don't  bury  it  in  a  potato-pit,  like  the  Irish. 
Don't  preserve  it  in  spirits,  like  the  barbarians.  Don't  salt  it 
down,  like  the  Newfoundlanders.  Don't  pack  it  in  ice,  like 
Captain  Rack.  Don't  parboil  it  like  gooseberries.  Don't  pot, 
and  don't  hang  it.  A  rope  is  a  bad  '  cordon  saniiaire.'  Above 
all,  don't  despond  about  it.  Let  not  anxiety  have  'thee  on  the 
hip.'  Consider  your  health  as  your  greatest  and  best  friend, 
and  think  as  well  of  it,  in  spite  of  all  its  foibles,  as  you  can. 
For  instance,  never  dream,  though  you  may  have  a  '  clever 
hack,'  of  galloping  consumption,  or  indulge  in  the  Meltonian 
belief  that  you  are  going  the  pace.  Despondency,  in  a  nice 
case,  is  the  overweight  that  you  may  kick  the  beam  aud  the 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF     MEDICINE.  173 


bucket,  both  at  once.  Besides,  the  best  fence  against  care  is 
— ha  !  ha  !  wherefore,  care  to  have  one  all  around  you  when 
ever  you  can.  Let  your  '  lungs  crow  like  the  chanticleer,'  and 
as  like  the  game-cock  as  possible.  It  expands  the  chest,  enlarges 
the  heart,  quickens  the  circulation,  and,  like  a  trumpet,  makes 
the  '  spirit  dance.'  " 

There  is  a  world  of  good  advice  in  this  passage  from  a  letter 
of  Charles  Lamb  to  Bernard  Barton  :  "  You  are  too  much 
apprehensive  about  your  complaint.  The  best  way,  in  these 
cases,  is  to  keep  yourself  as  ignorant  as  you  can — as  ignorant 
as  the  world  was  before  Galen — of  the  entire  inner  construc 
tion  of  the  animal  man  :  not  to  be  conscious  of  a  midriff;  to 
hold  kidneys  (save  of  sheep  and  swine)  to  be  an  agreeable 
fiction  ;  not  to  know  whereabout  the  gall  grows  ;  to  account, 
the  circulation  of  the  blood  a  mere  idle  whim  of  Harvey's  ;  to 
acknowledge  no  mechanism  not  visible.  For,  once  fix  the  seat 
of  your  disorder,  and  your  fancies  flux  into  it  like  so  many  bad 
hui'iiors.  Those  medical  gentry  choose  each  his  favorite  p-irt  ; 
one  takes  the  lungs,  another  the  liver,  and  refers  to  that  what 
ever  in  the  animal  economy  is  amiss."  He  goes  on  to  counsel 
his  friend,  "above  all,  to  use  exercise — keep  a  good  conscience  ; 
avoid  taniperings  with  hard  terms  of  art,  '  viscosity,'  '  scirrho- 
sity,'  and  those  bugbears  by  which  simple  patients  are  scared 
into  their  graves.  Believe  the  general  sense  of  the  mercan 
tile  world,  which  holds  that  desks  are  not  deadly.  It  is  the 
mind,  and  not  the  limbs,  that  taints  by  long  sitting.  Think  of 
the  patience  of  tailors  ;  think  how  long  the  Lord  Chancellor 
sits  ;  think  of  the  brooding  hen." 

Thus  much  about  the  mission  of  medicine,  and  its  purveyors, 
as  well  as  some  of  the  disasters  it  proposes  to  remedy :  now  a 
word  or  two  abouc  the  subject  of  all  this — man.  Physiologists 
assert  that  this  "paragon  of  animals"  is  physically  a  machine 
— a  steam-engine — his  brain  the  engine,  his  lungs  the  boiler, 
bis  viscera  the  furnace.  That  he  glides  along  the  track  of  life, 
often  at  the  fearful  speed  of  sixty  or  seventy  pulsations  in  a 


174  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


minute,  never  stopping,  so  long  as  the  machine  is  in  working 
order.  He  has  also  been  compared  to  a  steamship,  a  chemical 
laboratory,  a  distiller}7,  a  forcing-pump,  a  grist-mill,  a  furnace, 
an  electric  telegraph. 

Man  has  the  power  of  imitating  almost  every  motion  but 
that  of  flight.  To  effect  these  he  has,  in  maturity  and  health, 
60  bones  in  his  head,  60  in  his  thighs  and  legs,  62  in  his  arms 
and  hands,  and  67  in  the  trunk.  He  has  also  434  muscles. 
His  heart  makes  64  pulsations  in  a  minute.  There  are  also 
three  complete  circulations  of  the  blood,  in  the  short  space  of 
an  hour. 

Old  Francis  Quarks  furnishes  the  moral  estimate  : 

"  Why,  what  is  man  ?  a  quickened  lump  of  earth, 
A  f't-ast  for  worms,  a  bubble  full  of  breath, 
A  looking-glass  for  grief,  a  flash,  a  minute, 
A  painted  tomb  with  putrefaction  in  it, 
A  map  of  death,  a  burden  of  a  song, 
A  winter's  dust,  a  worm  of  five  feet  long. 
Begot  in  sin,  in  darkness  nourished,  born 
In  sorrow  ;  naked,  shiftless,  and  forlorn. 
His  first  voice  heard,  is  crying  for  relief, 
Alas!  he  comes  into  a  world  of  grief; 
His  age  is  sinful,  and  his  youth  is  vain, 
His  life's  a  punishment,  his  death's  a  pain. 
His  life's  an  hour  of  joy,  a  world  of  sorrow, 
His  death's  a  winter  night  that  finds  no  morrow. 
Man's  life's  an  hour-glass,  which  being  run, 
Concludes  that  hour  of  joy,  and  so  is  done." 

In  closing  our  desultory  observations  on  "  the  fallacies  of  the 
faculty,"  we  refer  to  the  testimony  of  sundry  members  of  the 
profession,  for  determining  the  amount  of  good  or  evil  of 
which  they  are  the  occasion. 

Dr.  Akenside,  himself  a  physician,  has  said,  "  Physicians,  in 
despair  of  making  medicine  a  science,  have  agreed  to  convert 
it  into  a  trade."  Sir  Anthony  Carlisle  said,  "  that  medicine 
was  an  art  founded  in  conjecture  and  improved  by  murder  ; 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF      MEDICINE.  175 


that  he  never  could  discover  any  rational  principle  in  a  physi 
cian's  treatment  of  a  case,  and  that,  therefore,  it  was  all  guess 
work."  The  late  Professor  Gregory  used  often  to  declare,  in 
his  class-room,  "that  ninety-nine  out  of  one  hundred  medical 
facts  were  so  many  medical  lies  ;  and  that  medical  doctrines 
were,  for  the  most  part,  little  better  than  stark,  staring  non 
sense." 

"  Assuredly  the  uncertain  and  most  unsatisfactory  art  that  we 
call  medical  science,  is  no  science  at  all,  but  a  jumble  of  incon 
sistent  opinions,  of  conclusions  hastily  and  often  incorrectly 
drawn,  of  facts  misunderstood  or  perverted,  of  comparisons 
without  analogy,  of  hypotheses  without  reason,  and  of  theories 
not  only  useless  but  dangerous."*  The  late  Dr.  Hooper 
remarks  in  his  writings,  "  Medicine  is  now  defined  the  art  of 
preventing  and  treating  diseases,  but  formerly  it  was  called  the 
art  of  preserving  health  and  curing  diseases.  The  word  cure 
is  not  used  at  present,  because  we  possess  no  remedy  capable 
of  effecting  an  immediate  cure.  There  is  a  great  difference 
between  treatment  and  cure,  as  many  diseases  are  incurable, 
but  are  still  proper  subjects  for  treatment."  It  has  often  been 
objected  to  the  physician  or  practitioner  that  he  is  unable 
satisfactorily  to  explain  the  performance  of  a  single  function, 
the  phenomena  of  a  single  disease,  or  the  operation  of  a  single 
remedy.  However  humiliating  the  admission  of  such  a  truth 
may  be,  it  cannot  wholly  be  denied.  But  fully  to  account  for 
the  performance  of  one  function  would  be  nearly  paramount  to 
the  explanation  of  all,  for  all  are  governed  by  the  same 
general  laws,  and  subject  to  the  same  general  causes.  Dr. 
James  Johnson,  of  London,  has  left  upon  record  the  following 
extraordinary  admission  :  "  I  declare  as  my  conscientious 
opinion,  founded  on  long  experience  and  reflection,  that  if 
there  was  not  a  single  physician,  surgeon,  apothecary,  chemist, 
druggist,  nor  drug  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  there  would  be 
less  sickness  and  less  mortality  than  now  prevail."  We  are 

*  Dublin  Medical  Journal. 


176  SALAD   FOR  THE   SOCIAL. 


told  by  the  ingenious  John  Brown  that  he  "  wasted  more  than 
twenty  years  in  learning,  teaching,  and  diligently  scrutinizing 
every  part  of  medicine."  The  first  five  passed  away  in  hearing 
others,  studying  what  he  had  heard,  implicitly  believing  it,  and 
entering  upon  the  possession  as  a  rich  and  valuable  inheritance. 
His  mode  of  employment  the  next  five  years  was  to  explain 
more  clearly  the  several  particulars,  to  refine  and  give  them 
a  nicer  polish.  During  the  next  equal  space  of  time,  because 
no  part  of  it  had  succeeded  to  his  mind,  he  became  cold  upon 
the  subject,  and,  with  many  eminent  men,  even  with  the  vulgar 
themselves,  began  to  deplore  the  healing  art  as  altogether 
uncertain  and  incomprehensible.  Majenclie,  whose  opinion  is 
considered  of  much  weight  in  Paris,  says,  "  Consider  for  a 
moment  the  state  in  which  medicine  exists  in  the  present  day. 
Visit  the  different  hospitals,  and  you  will  not  fail  to  observe 
how  physicians  are  divided  between  the  most  opposite  systems, 
on  the  nature,  on  the  seat,  and  even  on  the  treatment  of  the 
most  simple,  disease  ;  yet  each  of  those  systems  is  supported 
by  arguments  more  or  less  specious  :  each  theory  is  based  upon 
facts  more  or  less  certain.''* 

In  coming  to  a  conclusion,  therefore,  we  ask  to  what  cause 
shall  we  attribute  the  past,  and  even  the  present  anomalous 
condition  of  medical  science,  if  not  to  the  inefficiency  of  its 
practitioners.  Dr.  John  W.  Francis,  of  New  York,  furnishes, 
in  part,  the  solution  of  the  enigma.  We  quote  from  an 
address,  delivered  by  him  not  long  since.  It  is  a  noble  tri 
bute  to  the  profession. 

"  That  ignorance  of  the  laws  of  life,  of  the  rules  of  health, 
and  of  the  remedial  powers  of  medicinal  substances,  prevails 
to  a  wonderful  degree,  even  in  exalted  places,  is  an  incontro 
vertible  position  ;  and  hence  the  innumerable  calamities  which 
popular  delusion  in  the  curative  art  entails.  Most  unfortunate 
for  its  victims,  like  fraud  in  fiscal  concerns,  it  has  a  wider 
influence  in  its  effects  than  with  the  immediate  objects  with 

*  Permey's  Organs  of  Life. 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF     MEDICINE.  177 


whom  it  traffics.  Its  dire  malignity  is  often  extended  through 
a  large  circle  of  the  unconscious  and  unsuspecting. 

"  And,  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  instances  of  noble  and 
touching  fortitude,  of  sublime  patience,  and  of  heavenly  faith, 
which  every  medical  man  that  deserves  the  name  must  treasure 
as  among  the  richest  lessons  of  his  life.  Who  that  has  kept 
vigils  at  the  couch  of  Genius,  and  marked  the  wayward 
flickeriugs  of  its  sacred  fire,  made  yet  more  ethereal  by  disease, 
or  seen  beauty  grow  almost  supernatural  in  the  embrace  of 
pain,  has  not  felt  his  mission  to  be  holy  as  well  as  respon 
sible  ?  And  when  a  voice  that  has  thrilled  millions  is  hushed, 
or  a  mind  upon  which  rests  the  cares  of  a  nation  is  prostrated, 
who  has  not  realized  how  intimately  the  healing  art  is  knit  into 
the  vast  and  complex  web  of  human  society  ?  Let  not  that 
be  thought  a  light  office  which  summons  us  to  minister,  as 
apostles  of  science,  to  the  greatest  exigencies  of  life  ;  to  cheer 
the  soul  under  the  acute  sufferings  of  maternity,  and  alleviate 
the  decay  of  nature  ;  to  watch  over  the  glimmering  dawn  and 
the  fading  twilight  of  existence  ;  to  stand  beside  the  mother, 
whose  sobs  are  hushed  that  the  departure  of  her  first-born  may 
be  undisturbed  ;  and  be  oracles  at  the  bedside  of  the  reverend 
minister  of  holy  truth,  the  halo  of  whose  piety  softens,  on  his 
brow,  the  lines  of  mortal  agony.  What  a.  mastery  of  self  1 
What  requisites,  mental  and  corporeal,  are  demanded  in  him 
who  is  the  observer  of  scenes  like  these,  whose  sympathies  are 
awakened  to  services  such  as  are  befitting  the  mighty  crisis, 
and  whose  talents  are  efficiently  enlisted  for  the  triumphant 
accomplishment  of  his  devout  trust  !  The  advent  of  such  an 
ambassador,  when  his  calling  is  duly  understood,  must  awaken 
the  heart  to  its  profoundest  depths,  and  cannot  be  inoperative 
upon  minds  of  intellectual  and  moral  culture." 

It  seems  to  be  usually  less  a  matter  of  ambition  with  medi 
cal  students  to  obtain  a  thorough  induction  into  the  theory 
and  practice  of  their  art,  than  to  secure  the  distinction  of  too 
frequently  an  undeserved  diploma,  and  the  coveted  monogram. 

8* 


178  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 

of  M.  D.  attached  to  their  names,  as  a  passport  to  practice 
upon  poor  old  women  and  children,  who  pay  the  forfeiture  of 
life  for  their  inexcusable  folly  and  cupidity. 

Prof.  Carnochan  thus  sums  up  the  whole  subject  :  If  we 
examine  the  life  of  the  practising  physician,  we  find  it  gilded 
and  shining  on  the  surface  ;  but  beneath  the  spangles,  how 
much  pain  and  hardship  !  The  practising  physician  is  one 
of  the  martyrs  of  modern  society  :  he  drinks  the  cup  of  bitter 
ness,  and  empties  it  to  the  dregs.  He  is  under  the  weight  of 
an  immense  responsibility,  and  his  reward  is  but  too  often 
injustice  and  ingratitude.  His  trials  begin  at  the  very  gates 
of  his  career.  He  spends  his  youthful  years  in  the  exhausting 
investigation  of  Anatomy  ;  he  breathes  the  air  of  putrefac 
tion,  and  is  daily  exposed  to  all  the  perils  of  contagion.  View 
him  in  the  practice  of  his  difficult  art,  which  he  has  acquired 
at  the  risk  of  his  life  !  He  saves  or  cures  his  patient  ;  it  is 
the  result  of  chance,  or  else  it  is  alleged  that  it  is  nature,  and 
nature  alone,  that  cures  disease,  and  that  the  physician  is  only 
useful  for  form's  sake.  Then,  consider  the  mortifications  he  has 
to  undergo,  when  he  sees  unblushing  ignorance  win  the  success 
which  is  denied  to  his  learning  and  talents,  and  you  will 
acknowledge  that  the  trials  of  the  physician  are  not  surpassed 
in  any  other  business  of  life.  There  is  another  evil  the  honora 
ble  physician  has  to  contend  with — a  hideous  and  devouring 
evil,  commenced  by  the  world,  sustained  by  the  world,  and 
seemingly  for  evermore  destined  to  be  an  infliction  upon 
humanity.  This  evil  is  Quackery,  which  takes  advantage  of 
that  deplorable  instinct  which  actually  seeks  falsehood,  and 
prefers  it  to  truth.  How  often  do  we  see  the  shameless  and 
ignorant  speculator  arrest  public  attention,  and  attain  fortune, 
while  neglect,  obscurity,  and  poverty  are  the  portion  of  the 
modest  practitioner,  who  has  embraced  the  profession  of  medi 
cine  with  conscientiousness,  and  cultivated  it  with  dignity  and 
honor. 

Great  was  Diana  of  the  Ephesians,  and  we  follow  suit,  for 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF      MEDICINE.  179 


great  are  we  in  our  credulity,  great  iu  our  manifold  sufferings, 
great  ia  our  multitudinous  quacks,  great  in  the  princely  for 
tunes  we  bestow  upon  those  vampires  who  batten  upon  disease 
and  sorrow.  Take  up  the  first  newspaper  that  comes  to  hand  ; 
look  over  the  advertisements  entitled  Medical  ;  is  there  not  a 
panacea  for  every  disability — consumption,  dyspepsia,  in  short 
everything  that  has  or  can  make  up  the  total  of  human 
wretchedness  or  human  infirmity  ?  Every  ailment  that  has 
baffled  skill,  science,  and  intense  devotion,  all  whittled  down 
into  a  simple  <;  veni,  vidi,  vici."  How  wonderful  that  death  is 
still  the  great  iconoclast,  in  spite  of  potions,  ointments,  and 
drops  ;  in  spite  of  pills  that  are  infallible,  in  spite  of  philan 
thropists  who  profess  to  eradicate  all  the  "ills  that  flesh  is 
heir  to,"  and  others  also  that  never  existed — bitters  of  such  a 
phoenix-like  quality  that  the  sick  are  turned  incontinently  into 
angels  of  happiness,  and  a  debilitated  constitution  is  so  sum 
marily  dealt  with  that  it  shelters  itself  in  no  time  under  a 
spiritual  healthfulness. 

Among  the  excrescences  that  infest  our  Broadway,  with  its 
ever  varying  light  and  shade,  its  disguised  poverty,  reckless 
extravagance,  and  obtrusive  vanity,  may  be  seen  two  specimens 
of  the  real  old-fashioned  quack.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  look  upon 
something  so  broad  and  full  of  character  ;  there  can  be  110 
cheating  here — all  above  board  ;  note  his  peculiar  turned-up 
hat,  unlike  any  other,  specs  fixed  upon  the  very  tip  of  his  nasal 
protuberance,  his  bright  blue  silk  neckerchief,  a  cloak,  embroi 
dered  with  a  superfluity  of  velvet,  does  the  luxurious  for  his 
shoulders — and  all  this  weight  of  material  and  immaterial 
eased  off  into  a  pair  of  Hessians  ;  a  foreign  title  too,  and  the 
man  is  developed.  The  other  Samaritan  may  be  known  by  a 
certain  air  of  solemnity  that  accompanies  him  —  enveloped 
in  a  coat  and  continuations  of  the  last  century,  black  silk 
stockings,  and  silver  buckles  to  match.  Smaller  fry  there  are 
innumerable  ;  but  we  cannot  stop  to  select  all  the  prowling 
vagabonds  we  meet,  so  leave  them  to  pursue  their  Elysium  in 


180  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


their  own  way  ;  but  ought  ignorance  to  be  tampered  with  ? 
must  our  faith  ever  be  abused  by  this  charlatanism  ?  Where 
are  the  conservators  of  public  morality  ?  The  unfortunate  thim 
ble-rigger  is  hustled  about  without  any  compunction  :  he  vio 
lates  the  law  ;  but  why  is  there  not  a  law  to  prevent  this 
gambling  in  human  bodies  and  human  hearts  ?  must  this  traffic 
be  continued  unchecked  and  unrebuked,  while  thousands  upon 
thousands  are  sacrificed?  The  selfish  cry  of  "every  one  for 
himself,  and  God  for  us  all,"  is  heard  in  all  its  infidelity  and 
apathy,  while  helplessness  and  imbecility  are  left  to  self- 
management.  If  we  are  to  be  cut  down  before  our  allotment, 
let  it  be  done  scientifically — in  other  words,  let  the  regulars  do 
it  ;  with  them  we  may  have  a  chance  of  existence. 

Whittier  observes  :  "  It  is  the  special  vocation  of  the 
doctor  to  grow  familiar  with  suffering — to  look  upon  humanity 
disrobed  of  its  pride  and  glory — robbed  of  all  its  fictitious 
ornaments — weak,  hopeless,  naked — and  undergoing  the  last 
fearful  metempsychosis,  from  its  erect  and  god-like  image,  the 
living  temple  of  ail  enshrined  divinity,  to  the  loathsome  clod 
and  the  inanimate  dust.  Of  what  ghastly  secrets  of  moral  and 
physical  disease  is  he  the  depository  !"  With  what  a  sanctity, 
therefore,  is  the  character  of  the  true  physician  invested. 

It  has  been  well  said,  that  the  theory  and  practice  of  medicine 
is  the  noblest  and  most  difficult  science  in  the  world  ;  and  that 
there  is  no  other  art  for  the  practice  of  which  the  most 
thorough  education  is  so  essential. 

A  word  or  two  regarding  the  modern  systems  of  Homoeo 
pathy  and  Hydropathy,  both  which  are,  as  might  have  been 
anticipated,  obnoxious  to  the  advocates  of  the  old  system  of 
Allopathy.  The  Hahnemannian  theory,  however,  now  num 
bers  among  its  supporters  many  intelligent  and  philosophic 
minds,  although  the  infinitesimal  reduction  of  its  doses  to  the 
millionth,  billionth,  and  trillionth  part  of  a  grain,  is  more  than 
enough  to  stagger  the  belief  of  those  who  have  been  accustomed 
to  solutions  by  the  pailful,  and  powders  in  any  quantity. 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF      MEDICINE.  181 


The  principle  of  the  Homoeopathists  is  founded  in  truth  and 
reason,  but  its  administrators  require  to  be  well  skilled  in  its 
doctrines,  as  their  remedial  agents  include  many  of  the  most 
subtle  and  powerful  poisons.  We  are  for  Homoeopathy  on 
account  of  its  modest  inflictions  upon  the  poor,  afflicted  patient, 
who,  in  appealing  to  the  old  system,  has  often  as  much  to 
abide  in  his  shattered  corporeity  from  the  attacks  of  the 
curative  process,  as  from  the  original  disease.  The  logic  of  the 
following  may  be  questioned,  but  it  is,  of  course,  intended  as  a 
sarcasm  : 

li  The  homoeopathic  system,  sir,  just  suits  me  to  a  tittle, 
It  clearly  proves  of  physic  you  cannot  take  too  little  ; 
If  it  be  good  in  all  complaints  to  take  a  dose  so  small, 
It  surely  must  be  better  still,  to  take  no  dose  at  all."* 

There  is  only  one  suggestion  we  have  to  offer  in  this  connec 
tion — it  is  this  :  ought  not  the  homoeopathic  practitioners  to 
regulate  their  fees  in  the  ratio  of  their  doses  ?  The  cold- 
water  system  is  rapidly  extending  its  popularity  among  us.  It 
is  true,  we  have  no  establishment  to  compare  with  that  of  the 
learned  discoverer  of  hydropathy,  Preisnitz  ;  but  the  system  is 
daily  gaining  favor  with  the  reflective  and  thoughtful.  Of 
mesmerism,  and  its  application  to  nervous  and  neuralgic 
diseases,  we  shall  not  pause  to  speak.  The  advantages  of 
chloroform  have  been  so  fully  discussed  by  everybody,  that 
we  shall  simply  give  the  reader  a  taste  of  one  of  these  expo 
sitions  in  a  kind  of  mock  heroic  verse,  cut  from  a  recent 
English  paper  : 

*  It  is  very  evident,  however,  that  people  do  not  become  converts  to  any  particular 
system  of  Medicine  or  doctrine  of  Theology,  from  the  amount  of  proof  that  may  be 
adduced  in  their  support,  but  rather  from  the  peculiar  constitution  and  tendency  of 
their  mental  organization.  A  person  who  is  ultra  in  one  thing  will  be  ultra  in  all;  a 
believer  in  Homoeopathy  will  be  most  likely  a  believer  in  Spirit  Rappings  and  Mesmer 
ism.  Six-sevenths  of  the  followers  of  Emanuel  Swedenborg,  it  is  ascertained,  are 
enthusiastic  disciples  of  Hahnemann.  A  mystic  in  religion  will  be  a  mystic  in  medicine. 
Evidence  has  nothing  to  do  In  the  making  of  such  convert*. — Jfom&opathicus  naecitv-r, 
nonftt.—Dr.  C.  A.  LM. 


182  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


'•  Take  but  a  snuff  at  this  essence  antithetical, 

Dropp'd  upon  a  handkerchief,  or  bit  of  sponge, 
And  on  your  eyelids  'twill  clap  a  seal  hermetical, 
And  your  senses  in  a  trance  that  instant  plunge. 

"  Then  you  may  be  pinch'd  and  punctured,  bump'd  and  thump'd,  and 

whack'd  about, 

Scotch'd,  and  scored,  and  lacerated,  cauterized,  and  hacked  about  ; 
And  though  tender  as  a  chick — a  Sybarite  for  queasiness — 
Flay'd  alive,  unconscious  of  a  feeling  of  uneasiness. 

"  Celsus  will  witness  our  deft  chirurgeons  presently, 

Manage  operations  as  he  said  they  should  ; 
Doing  them  safely,  speedily,  and  pleasantly, 
Just  as  if  the  body  were  a  log  of  wood. 

"  Teeth,  instead  of  being  drawn  with  agonies  immeasurable. 
Now  will  be  extracted  with  sensations  rather  pleasurable, 
Chloroform  will  render  quite  agreeable  the  parting  with 
Any  useless  member  the  patient  has  been  smarting  with." 

An  instance  of  the  disadvantages  of  this  anajsthetical  agent 
is  seen  in  the  following  incident,  which  occurred  at  Tauuton 
Hospital,  when,  as  a  patient  was  undergoing  amputation  of  a 
limb,  while  under  the  influence  of  chloroform,  the  nurse  let 
fall  the  bottle  containing  the  gas,  which  quickly  spread  its 
somniferous  effects  over  the  operators,  and  some  time  elapsed 
before  they  recovered  from  their  partial  insensibility. 

Doctors  have  been  ever  the  theme  of  the  satirist,  from  the 
days  of  Horace  to  the  present.  Churchill  insinuates  that 

"Most  of  the  evils  we  poor  mortals  know, 
From  doctors  and  imagination  flow." 

Dryden,  in  his  lines  on  the  poet-doctor,  Garth,  says  : 

"  The  apothecary  train  is  wholly  blind  ; — 
From  files  a  random  recipe  they  take, 
And  many  deaths  of  ona  prescription  make. 


THE      MT6TERIES    OF    MEDICINE.  183 


Garth,  generous  as  his  muse,  prescribes  and  gives, 
The  shopman  sells,  and  by  destruction  lives." 

Byron  adds,  also,  a  stanza — 

"  This  is  the  way  physicians  mend — or  end  us, 
Secundum  artem — but  although  we  sneer, 
In  health — we  call  them  to  attend  us, 
Without  the  least  propensity  to  jeer." 

Byron  bits  it  exactly — when  in  health,  we  throw  physic  to 
the  dogs,  and  laugh  at  the  doctor  :  but,  when  we  are  pros 
trated  by  disease,  when  "sickness  sits  caverned  in  the  hollow 
eye,"  we  are  glad  enough  to  seek  his  aid,  and  remunerate  him, 
as  far  as  we  can,  for  it.  Some,  after  having  passed  under  the 
recuperative  process,  are  ungrateful  enough  to  forget  the  doc 
tor's  fee.  Doctor  Francis,  of  New  York,  tells  a  good  case 
of  management  of  such  an  individual.  We  give  it  in  his  own 
words  :  "  We  hear  much  of  the  penny-a-liner,  as  well  as  the 
productive  genius  of  a  Moore,  a  Byron,  and  a  Scott  ;  yet 
never  within  the  compass  of  our  reading,  or  of  common 
report,  have  we  known  of  pecuniary  results  following  the 
business  of  versification  to  surpass  the  instance  we  have 
to  narrate.  An  invalid,  whose  physical  sufferings  chal 
lenged  the  best  medical  skill,  was  at  length  restored  to  his 
wonted  health  ;  yet,  the  realization  of  the  doctor's  fee,  not 
unlike  the  great  cure,  seemed  to  be  threatened  with  great'  pro 
traction.  Some  time  had  elapsed  with  this  indifferent  state  of 
things,  when,  on  one  bright  morning,  with  a  cheerful  face,  the 
gratified  patient  meeting  the  doctor  in  his  ordinary  walks, 
assured  him  he  was  then  going  to  a  house  of  worship,  to  return 
thanks  for  his  restoration.  '  You  do  rightly/  said  the  doctor  ; 
'  but  take  along  with  you  a  line  or  two  from  me,  touching  your 
case.'  He  was  handed  a  polite  note,  with  this  enclosure  : 

'  On  a  thanksgiving  day, 
Your  debts  you  should  pay  ; — 
If  you  seek  to  find  Heaven, 
Why  that  is  the  way.' 


184  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


Within  a  half-a-dozen  hours  after  the  receipt  of  the  lines,  the 
medical  bill  was  responded  to  by  the  admonished  patient,  and 
some  two  hundred  dollars  added  to  the  physician's  income.  Nc 
sermon  would  have  proved  more  effective."  We  know  not  how 
costly  may  have  been  the  doctor's  drugs,  in  the  premises  ;  but 
the  doctor  doubtless,  never  wrote  a  better  prescription,  or  per 
haps  received  a  more  easily-earned  fee. 

Fifty  dollars  a  line — and  very  short  ones,  at  that — for 
poetry  of  the  above  stamp,  excels  all  we  find  either  among 
the  calamities  or  delectations  of  authorship.  Surely,  neither 
the  Lores  of  the  Plants,  nor  the  Loves  of  the  Angels,  ever 
brought  such  results.  This  incident  suggests  the  fact— too 
apparent  to  need  illustration — that  the  present  incumbents  of 
the  curative  art,  like  many  of  their  predecessors,  are  not  among 
the  least  rewarded  toilers  in  the  hive  of  human  industry — a 
better  fate  than  that  of  the  two  physicians-royal,  who,  having 
the  misfortune  to  lose  their  patient,  were  doomed  to  forfeit 
their  own  lives,  and  to  be  buried  along  with  her. 

The  eccentricities  of  Abernethy  are  already  familiar  to  most 
readers  :  we  merely  cite  two  anecdotes  of  the  many  that  are 
recorded  of  this  feature  of  his  character. 

"  Abernethy's  mind  disqualified  him  from  adopting  that 
affected  interest  which  distinguishes  many  of  the  well-bred 
physicians,  and  he  heartily  despised  their  little  arts  to  acquire 
popularity.  He  seemed  to  feel  as  if  he  mentally  expressed 
himself  thus  :  'Here  I  am  ready  to  give  you  my  advice,  if  you 
want  it :  but  you  must  take  it  as  you  find  it ;  and  if  you  don't 
like  it,  egad  (his  favorite  word),  you  may  go  about  your  busi 
ness — I  don't  want  to  have  anything  to  do  with  you  :  hold 
your  tongue,,  and  be  off.'  In  some  such  mood  as  this,  he 
received  a  visit  from  a  lady,  one  day,  who  was  well  acquainted 
with  his  invincible  repugnance  to  her  sex's  predominant  dispo 
sition,  and  therefore,  forbore  speaking  but  simply  in  reply  to 
his  laconic  queries.  The  consultation  was  conducted,  during 
three  visits,  in  the  following  manner  : 


THE      MYSTERIES      OF     MEDICINE.  185 


"First  Day.— (Lady  euters  and  holds  out  her  finger.) 
Abernelky.—'CniT  Lady.— '  Bite.'  A.— '  Dog  ?'  i.—' Par 
rot.'  A — '  Go  home  and  poultice  it.' 

Second  Day. — (Finger  held  out  again.)  A. — 'Better?' 
L. — 'Worse.'  A. — '  Go  home  and  poultice  it  again.' 

Third  Day.—  (Finger  held  out  as  before.)  A—' Better  ?' 
L. — '  Well.'  A — '  You're  the  most  sensible  woman  I  ever 
met  with.  Good-by.  Get  out.' 

Another  lady,  having  scalded  her  arm,  called  at  the  usual 
hour  to  show  it,  three  successive  days,  when  similar  laconic 
conversations  took  place  : 

First  Day. — (Patient,  exposing  the  arm,  says  :) — 'Burnt. 
A — '  I  see  it  ;'  and  having  prescribed  a  lotion,  she  departs. 

Second  Day. — (Patient  shows  the  arm,  and  says:) — 'Bet 
ter.'  A — '  I  know  it.' 

Third  Day.  —  (Again  showing  the  arm.)  P.  —  'Well.' 
A — '  Any  fool  can  tell  that.  What  d'ye  come  again  for  ? 
Get  away." 

There  are  several  distinct  varieties  among  the  medical  pro 
fession  ;  such  as  the  following  :  first,  the  silent  doctor,  who  is 
evidently  a  lover  of  creature  comforts,  and  whose  taciturn,  dig 
nified,  and  mysterious  deportment  passes  current  with  the 
unsuspecting  for  profound  wisdom.  He  ingeniously  manages  to 
secure  the  greatest  number  of  patients  with  the  fewest  possible 
words.  "  The  silent  doctor  is  a  great  favorite  with  the  fair  sex; 
they  regard  him  as  Coleridge  did  his  quondam  acquaintance  of 
dumpling  celebrity,  and  think  that  as  stillest  streams  are  oft- 
times  the  deepest,  so  there  must  be  something  intensely  fasci 
nating  in  the  said  doctor,  if  it  only  conld  be  discovered.  Every 
body  knows,  too,  how  each  individual  woman  believes  herself 
endowed  by  nature  with  peculiar  faculties  for  discovering 
the  occult,  for  unravelling  the  mysterious  ;  and  who  more  mys 
terious  than  the  silent  doctor  ? 

"  But,  leaving  him  now  in  their  safe  keeping,  our  next  illus 
tration  shall  be  of  the  sceptical  doctor.  Though  confessedly 


186  SALAD   FOR   THE   SOCIAL. 


against  his  interest,  he  is  very  slow  to  believe  that  anything  is 
the  matter  with  anybody.  If  people  are  resolved  to  be  quacked, 
he  finds  a  bread-pill,  to  be  taken  four  times  a  day — a  safe  and 
wholesome  remedy.  Still,  though  mortally  •  averse  to  old 
women  and  nervous  invalids,  when  there  is  real  suffering,  the 
sceptical  doctor  feels  keenly,  all  the  more,  perhaps,  from  his 
efforts  to  conceal  it. 

"  Of  all  others,  perhaps,  the  most  provoking  is  the  talkative 
doctor.  Well  versed  in  almost  every  subject,  fond  of  literature, 
of  politics,  and  of  science,  it  is  difficult  to  keep  him  to  the  point, 
and  obtain  any  definite  opinion  or  practical  advice  from  him. 
Quite  forgetful  that  you  are  in  actual  pain  or  grievous  dis- 
comforture,  a  single  hint  or  remote  allusion  is  sufficient  to  draw 
forth  a  learned  discussion  on  ancient  or  mediaeval  art,  or  the 
marbles  of  Xineveh.  He  will  harangue  on  the  authenticity  of 
Rowley,  or  the  author  of  Junius  ;  there  is  no  subject  which  he 
cannot  render  interesting  to  every  one  but  the  poor  patient, 
who  needs  more  philosophy  than  he  has  ever  dreamed  of  to 
bear  patiently  with  it  all  ! 

"  The  morbid  doctor  is  not  a  common  specimen,  but  occa 
sionally  he  may  be  met  with.  Take  a  drive  with  him  some 
fine  morning  in  his  chaise,  and,  however  cheerily  you  start, 
depend  upon  it  you  will  come  home  moping.  The  morbid 
doctor  sees  disease  and  death  before  him  at  every  turning. 
At  each  corner  a  death's-head  stares  him  in  the  face.  A  gaunt, 
grim  figure,  the  embodiment  of  all  diseases,  sits  at  his  elbow. 
It  would  be  hard  to  say  how  many  functional  disorders  have 
become  organic  through  his  treatment  of  them.  If  the  morbid 
doctor  pronounces  a  complaint  fatal,  how  can  the  patient 
doubt  ? 

Some  people  find  great  difficulty  in  choosing  their  medical 
attendant.  '  How/  say  they,  '  can  we  ascertain  the  real  stand 
ing  a  man  holds  in  his  profession?  A  large  practice  is  not  a 
criterion  ;  the  courting,  canting,  quack  will  sometimes  secure 
it,  or  mere  manners  will  be  against  it  ;  the  public  may  be 


THE     MYSTERIES      OF      MEDICINE.  187 


deceived  ;  from  his  medical  brethren  we  can  learn  nothing. 
How,  then,  is  the  truth  to  be  ascertained  ?' 

"  All  we  can  say  in  reply  is,  that  in  this,  as  in  most  other 
things,  people  must  employ  common  sense — an  invaluable 
quality  at  all  times,  and  especially  needful  in  choosing  a  doctor. 
If  you  find  a  medical  man  shallow  on  general  subjects,  or 
wanting  in  clearness  of  perception,  he  is  not  likely  to  be  very 
logical  or  very  deep  with  regard  to  his  profession.  If  you  find 
him  boasting,  bustling,  and  pompous — disposed  to  talk  of  the 
variety  of  his  engagements,  and  the  value  in  which  his  opinion 
is  held,  are  you  not  free  to  regard  him  as  you  would  any  other 
man  who  puts  forth  the  same  pretensions  ?  At  the  same  time 
be  not  carping  or  suspicious.  Medical  men  are  altogether, 
perhaps,  the  most  valuable  members  of  society  ;  their  sphere 
of  usefulness  is  exceeded  by  none.  A  word  spoken  in  season 
is  doubly  valued  when  falling  from  the  lips  of  those  who  have 
ministered  to  our  bodily  necessities,  and  what  influence  may 
they  not  exert  in  our  families  I  In  sickness  and  by  the  bed  of 
death,  chords  may  be  touched  which  will  never  cease  to  vibrate  ; 
love  and  domestic  union  may  take  the  place  of  coldness  and 
neglect  ;  and  the  family  doctor  may  prove  of  immense  service 
as  the  family  adviser."  * 

Altogether,  the  medical  profession,  though  arduous  in  the 
extreme,  is  very  noble  ;  and  few,  we  believe,  who  have  entered 
upon  it  would  be  willing  to  change  it  for  any  other.  The 
variety  of  learning  it  requires,  the  constant  accession  of 
new  truths,  the  full,  anxious,  but  interesting  occupation  it 
affords  to  the  mind,  renders  it  absolutely  absorbing  and 
exciting. 

Add  to  this  the  society  of  all  kinds  into  which  the  medical 
man  is  thrown,  the  knowledge  of  human  nature  he  acquires 
thereby,  the  many  beautiful  traits  of  domestic  affection  and 
woman's  love  which  pass  daily  before  him,  the  gratitude  of 
some  hearts,  the  cordial  friendship  of  others,  the  respect  to  be 

*  Chambers'  Journal. 


188  SALAD     FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


attained  from  all — and  it  will  scarcely  be  denied  that  the  prac 
tice  of  medicine  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  delightful,  as 
well  as  responsible,  of  all  professions. 

In  fine,  since  there  is  a  sacredness  in  the  trust  confided  to 
the  professor  of  the  healing  art,  a  corresponding  fidelity  to  its 
claims  and  responsibilities  is  indispensably  requisite  ;  and,  con 
sequently,  he  who  is  recklessly  indifferent  to  these  is  guilty  of 
the  highest  style  of  crime,  in  a  wanton  betrayal  of  the  faith 
reposed  iu  him. 


s 


THE    CYCLE    OF    THE    SEASONS. 

"The  shadow  on  the  dial's  face, 

That  steals,  from  day  to  day, 
With  slow,  unseen,  unceasing  pace, 

Moments,  and  months,  and  years  away; 
This  shadow,  which,  in  ever}'  clime, 

Since  light  and  motion  first  began, 
Hath  held  its  course  sublime." 

THE  topic  we  have  chosen  for  the  present  chnpter  is  so 
intangible,  that  the  moment  we  essay  to  grasp  it,  it  is  gone. 
Although  impalpable  it  is  yet  real,  for,  like  the  circumambient 
atmosphere,  it  is  ever  present  with  us,  although  unseen.  If  we 
attempt  to  symbolize  it,  we  fail  fully  to  portray  it,  and  yet 
images  are  its  only  mode  of  illustration.  It  is  both  the  longest 
and  the  shortest,  the  swiftest  and  the  slowest  ;  the  most 
divisible  and  the  most  indivisible  ;  the  most  regretted  and  the 
least  valued  ;  without  which  nothing  can  be  done  ;  yet,  that 
which  devours  everything,  and  gives  existence  to  everything. 
It  is  the  most  paradoxical,  yet  the  simplest  of  elements. 

Strictly  speaking,  it  is  never  palpable,  yet  it  is  ever  present  ;  a 
ISO  " 


190  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


constant  succession,  an  unfathomable  duration  ;  the  most 
momentous  benefactor  to  man,  yet  seldom  estimated  according 
to  its  worth. 

It  is  the  account  current  with  all,  in  which  more  are  found 
bankrupt  than  wealthy,  when  the  balance-sheet  is  demanded. 
It  marks  the  rising  and  the  setting  sun,  spreads  over  us  the 
black  veil  of  night,  and  gilds  with  gladness  the  face  of  day  ; 
it  rolls  on  the  revolving  seasons,  chronicling  the  deeds  ot 
centuries  ;  watching  over  the  birth  of  infancy,  the  ardent 
aspirations  of  youth,  toiling  manhood,  and  the  tottering  steps 
of  the  infirm  and  aged — his  sorrows,  loves,  and  cares,  nor 
forsakes  him  so  long  as  life  shall  last.  It  is  always  the  friend 
of  the  virtuous  and  the  true,  a  tormenting  foe  to  those  who 
abuse  the  gift ;  to  the  former,  it  is  redolent  of  fragrant  and 
pleasant  memories, — to  the  latter,  of  gloomy  remorse  and 
despair. 

"  It  rolls  away,  and  bears  along 
A  mingled  mass  of  right  and  wrong  : 
The  flowers  of  love  that  bloomed  beside 
The  margin  of  life's  sunny  tide  ; 
The  poisoned  weeds  of  passion,  torn 
From  dripping  rocks,  and  headlong  borne 
Into  that  unhorizoned  sea — 
Which  mortals  call  eternity!" 

And  such  is  that  mysterious  myth,  named  Time,  who 
measures  our  allotted  span,  from  the  cradle  to  the  coffin, 
mingles  our  joys  and  griefs  in  the  chalice  of  life,  and  then 
terminates  it  with  his  scythe, — 

"  A  shadow  only  to  the  eye, 
It  levels  all  beneath  the  sky." 

Time  is  but  a  name  ;  it  is  what  is  done  in  time  that  is  the 
substance.  What  are  twenty-four  centuries  to  the  hard  rock, 
more  than  twenty-four  hours  to  man,  or  twenty-four  minutes  to 


THE   CYCLE   OF  THE   SEASONS.       191 

the  ephemera  ?  "  Are  there  not  periods  in  our  own  existence," 
writes  an  ingenious  thinker,  "  in  which  space,  computed  by  its 
measure  of  thoughts,  feelings,  and  events,  mocks  the  penury  of 
man's  artificial  scale  and  comprises  a  lifetime  in  a  day." 

I  asked  an  aged  man,  a  man  of  cares, 

Wrinkled  and  curved,  and  white  with  hoary  hairs  : 

"  Time  is  the  warp  of  life,"  he  said.  "  Oh  tell 

The  young,  the  fair,  the  gay,  to  weave  it  well." 

I  asked  the  ancient,  venerable  dead — 

Sages  who  wrote,  and  warriors  who  bled  : 

From  the  cold  grave  a  hollow  murmur  flowed — 

"  Time  sowed  the  seed  we  reap  in  this  abode." 

I  asked  a  dying  sinner,  ere  the  tide 

Of  life  had  left  his  veins  :  "  Time,"  he  replied, 

"I've  lost  it — ah,  the  treasure  !"  and  he  died. 

I  asked  the  golden  sun  and  silver  spheres, 

Those  bright  chronometers  of  days  and  years  : 

They  answered — "  Time  is  but  a  meteor's  glare," 

And  bade  me  for  eternity  prepare. 

I  asked  the  seasons,  in  their  annual  round, 

"Which  beautify  or  desolate  the  ground  ; 

And  they  replied  (no  oracle  more  wise)  ; 

"  Tis  Folly's  blank,  and  Wisdom's  highest  prize."* 

"  Time  sadly  overcometh  all  things,  and  is  now  dominant, 
and  sitteth  upon  a  sphinx,  and  looketh  unto  Memphis  and  old 
Thebes  ;  while  his  sister,  Oblivion,  reclineth  semi-somnous  on 
a  pyramid,  gloriously  triumphing,  making  puzzles  of  Titanian 
erections,  and  turning  old  glories  into  dreams.  History  sinketh 
beneath  her  cloud.  The  traveller,  as  he  paceth  amazedly 
through  those  deserts,  asketh  of  her,  Who  builded  them  ?  and 
she  mumbleth  something,  but  what  it  is  he  knoweth  not."f 

Locke  is  of  opinion  that  a  man,  in  great  misery,  may  so  far 
lose  his  measure,  as  to  think  a  minute  an  hour ;  or,  in  joy, 
make  an  hour  a  minute. 

Shakspeare  expands  the  same  idea,  where  he  says — "  Time 

*  Locke.  t  Heeren. 


192  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


travels  in  divers  paces,  with  divers  persons  ;  I'll  tell  you  who 
Time  ambles  withal,  who  Time  trots  withal,  who  Time  gallops 
withal,  and  who  he  stands  still  withal.  He  trots  hard  with  a 
young  maid,  between  the  contract  of  her  marriage,  and  the 
day  it  is  solemnized  ;  if  the  interim  be  but  a  sennight, 
Time's  pace  is  so  hard,  that  it  seems  the  length  of  seven  years. 
He  ambles  with  a  priest  that  lacks  Latin,  and  a  rich  man  that 
hath  not  the  gout — for  the  one  sleeps  easily,  because  he  cannot 
study  ;  and  the  other  lives  merrily,  because  he  feels  no  pain  ; 
the  one  lacking  the  burden  of  lean  and  wasteful  learning — the 
other  knowing  no  burden  of  heavy,  tedious  penury;  then  Time 
arables  withal.  He  gallops  with  a  thief  to  the  gallows — for, 
though  he  go  softly  as  foot  can  fall,  he  thinks  himself  too  soon 
there.  He  stays  still  with  lawyers  in  the  vacation — for  they 
sleep  between  term  and  term,  and  then  they  perceive  not  how 
Time  moves." 

Time  is  portrayed  with  wings  to  indicate  his  rapid  flight, 
and  if  he  strew  our  pathway  with  life's  spring  flowers,  he  also 
brings,  too  swiftly,  its  wintry  frosts  and  desolation.  He  is 
also  represented  with  a  scythe,  to  notify  that  he  mows  down 
all  alike — the  young,  the  refined  and  the  vulgar,  the  good  and 
the  bad. 

"  Even  such  is  Time  that  takes  on  trust, 
Our  youth,  our  joys,  our  all  we  have, 

And  pays  us  but  with  age  and  dust ; 
"Who,  in  the  dark  and  silent  grave, 

When  we  have  wandered  all  our  ways, 

Shuts  up  the  story  of  our  days/'* 

The  earliest  expedient  for  reckoning  time  seems  to  have  been 
the  sun-dial.  Allusion  to  its  use  is  to  be  found  in  Holy  Writ.f 
It  was  called  by  the  ancients  sciathericum,  from  being  marked 
by  shadow.  This  instrument  was  in  vogue  among  the  Romans  ; 
we  have  an  account  of  one  being  placed  in  the  court  of  the 
Temple  of  Quirinus. 

*  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  t  Isaiah,  chip,  sxxviii.  8. 


THE   CYCLE   OF   THE  SEASONS.        193 


Several  of  the  Grecian  astronomers  and  mathematicians  con 
structed  dials.  Thales  is  said  to  have  made  one  ;  as  also 
Aristarchus  and  Anaxirnenes,  of  Miletus.  Herodotus  informs 
us  that  the  Greeks  borrowed  the  invention  from  the  Baby 
lonians.  The  fir^t  snn-dial  used  at  Rome  was  in  use  about 
three  hundred  years  before  Christ.  Before  the  use  of  these 
instruments  in  the  "  Eternal  City,"  there  was  no  division  of 
the  day  into  hours  ;  nor  does  that  word  occur  in  the  Twelve 
Tables.  They  only  mention  sun-rising  and  sun-setting,  lefore 
and  after  mid-day.  According  to  Pliny,  mid-day  was  not 
added  till  some  years  later,  an  accensus  of  the  consuls  being 
appointed  to  call  out  that  time  when  he  saw  the-  sun  from 
the  Senate-house,  between  the  Rostra  and  the  place  called 
Graecostasis,  where  the  ambassadors  from  Greece  and  other 
foreign  countries  used  to  stand. 

The  khpsydra,  or  water-clock,*  was  introduced  by  Scipio 
Xarsica  at  Rome,  157  B.C.  It  served  its  purpose  in  all  wea 
thers,  while  the  dial,  of  course,  depended  upon  the  sun.  Sun 
dials  are  occasionally  still  to  be  seen  in  Europe. 

"  I  count  only  the  hours  that  are  serene,"  is  the  motto  of 
an  old  sun-dial  near  Yenice.  A  capital  conceit  to  dispel  dul- 
ness  and  discontent.  Life  is  sure  to  be  much  brighter  if  we 
look  at  the  sunny  side  of  it. 

There  is  a  dial  in  the  Temple,  London,  upon  which  is 
inscribed  the  admonitory  line  (a  good  hint  for  loiterers), 
"  Begone  about  your  business." 

The  Chinese  have  been  accustomed,  as  early  as  the  ninth 
century,  to  have  watchmen  posted  on  towers,  who  announced 
the  hours  of  the  day  and  night  by  striking  upon  a  suspended 
board.  A  similar  custom  still  remains  among  the  Russians. 


*  In  the  year  807,  the  King  of  Persia  sent  as  a  present  to  Charlemagne  a  water-clock, 
furnished  with  some  ingenious  mechanism.  A  slight  description  of  it  is  to  be  found  in 
Amxile*  Frimcorum,  ascribed  to  Kginliard.  The  author  says: — "Likewise  a  time 
piece  wonderfully  constructed  of  brass  with  mechanical  art,  in  which  the  course  of  the 
twelve  hours  was  turned  towards  a  clepsydra,  with  as  many  brass  balls,  which  fall 
down  at  the  completion  of  the  hour,  and  by  their  fall  sounded  a  bell  under  them." 


194  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


Alfred  the  Great  measured  his  time  by  the  constant  burning 
of  wax  torches  or  candles,  notched  for  the  hours.  In  some 
parts  of  the  East,  people  measure  time  by  the  length  of  their 
shadow.  Consequently,  if  you  ask  a  man  what  time  of  day 
it  is,  he  will  stand  erect  in  the  sun  and  measure  his  shadow. 
We  find  allusion  to  this  in  the  seventh  chapter  of  Job.  "  As  a 
servant  earnestly  desireth  the  shadow."  Hour-glasses  were 
first  invented  at  Alexandria,  150  years  before  the  Christian  era. 

The  monks  of  old,  finding  the  time  hang  'heavy  on  their 
hands,  devised  some  curious  expedients  to  get  rid  of  it.  The 
Abbot  of  Hirsham  (temp,  llth  century)  constructed  a  time- 
measurer  somewhat  similar  to  our  clocks  ;  the  machine  being 
different  from  the  sun-dial  and  the  water-clock.  It  not  only 
pointed  out  the  hours,  and  exhibited  the  motion  of  the  earth 
and  other  planets,  but  emitted  also  a  sound,  to  give  an  alarm, 
for  the  purpose  of  awakening  the  sacristan  to  matins  and  ves^ 
pers.  Clocks,  moved  by  wheels  and  weights,  also  began  to 
be  used  in  the  monasteries  in  Europe  about  the  eleventh 
century. 

In  1232  a  curious  clock  was  sent  by  the  Sultan  of  Egypt  to 
the  Emperor  Frederic  II.  "  In  the  same  year,"  writes  an  old 
author,  "  the  Saladin  of  Egypt  sent  by  his  ambassadors,  as  a 
gift,  a  valuable  machine,  of  wonderful  construction,  worth 
more  than  five  thousand  ducats.  It  appeared  to  resemble 
internally  a  celestial  globe,  in  which  figures  of  the  sun,  moon, 
and  planets,  formed  with  great  skill,  moved,  being  impelled  by 
weights  and  wheels,  so  that,  performing  their  course  in  cer 
tain  and  fixed  intervals,  they  pointed  out  the  hour,  night  and 
day,  with  infallible  certainty  ;  also  the  twelve  signs  of  the 
zodiac,  with  certain  appropriate  characters,  moved  with  the 
firmament,  contained  within  themselves  the  course  of  the 
planets.'' 

We  learn  that,  in  1288,  an  artist  furnished  the  famous  clock- 
house  near  Westminster  Hall  with  a  clock,  to  be  heard  by  the 
courts  of  law.  This  clock  was  considered,  during  the  reign  of 


THE   CYCLE   OP   THE   SEASONS.        195 


Henry  VI.,  to  be  of  such  consequence,  that  it  was  consigned 
to  the  keeping  of  William  Warby,  dean  of  St.  Stephen's,  toge 
ther  with  the  pay  of  sixpence  per  diem,  to  be  received  at  the 
Exchequer.  Four  years  later,  in  1292,  a  clock  was  placed  in 
the  cathedral  t»t  Canterbury  ;  it  was  purchased  at  a  price  equi 
valent  to  four  hundred  pounds.  In  1523,  the  clock  of  St. 
Mary's,  Oxford,  was  furnished  out  of  fines  imposed  on  the  stu 
dents  of  the  university. 

One  of  the  oldest  clocks  in  England  is  in  the  Palace  of 
Hampton  Court.  It  still  works  well,  and  wears  well,  like 
father  Time,  who  never  seems  to  get  older. 

A  few  years  back  a  clock  was  invented  for  dividing  the 
year  decimally.  This  curious  time-measurer  made  a  hundred 
thousand  beats  in  the  day  ;  and  the  hands  on  the  dial  were 
so  contrived  as  to  divide  the  whole  day  of  twenty-four  hours 
into  ten,  a  hundred,  a  thousand,  ten  thousand,  and  one  hun 
dred  thousand  parts. 

One  of  the  best  clocks  now  in  London  is  that  of  the  Royal 
Exchange.  It  was  made  by  Mr.  Dent  under  the  immediate 
direction  of  Professor  Airy  ;  and  the  first  stroke  of  each  hour 
is  said  to  be  true  to  a  second  of  time.  That  placed  in  the 
Clock  Tower  of  the  New  Houses  of  Parliament  is  an  eight-day 
one,  and  strikes  the  hour  on  a  bell  weighing  nearly  ten  tons  ; 
it  chimes  the  quarter  upon  eight  bells,  and  shows  the  time 
upon  four  dials,  about  thirty  feet  in  diameter.  The  length  of 
the  minute-hand  of  the  clock  of  St  Paul's  Cathedral  is  8  feet, 
and  its  weight  151bs.  ;  the  length  of  the  hour-hand  is  5  feet 
5  inches,  and  its  weight  441bs.  The  diameter  of  the  dial  is 
18  feet.  The  diameter  of  the  bell  is  ten  feet,  and  it3  weight 
four  tons  and  a  quarter.  It  is  inscribed,  "  Richard  Phelps 
made  me,  1716,"  a;id  is  never  used  except,  for  the  striking  of 
the  hour,  and  for  tolling  at  the  deaths  and  funerals  of  any  of 
the  royal  family,  the  Bishops  of  London,  the  Deans  of  St. 
Paul's,  and  the  Lord  Mayor,  should  he  die  during  mayoralty. 

"  The  chime$  which  are  attached  to  many  of  our  public  clocks 


196  SALAD      FOR     THE     SOCIAL. 


seem  to  give  a  spur  to  the  lazy,  creeping  hours,  and  relieve  the 
lassitude  of  country  places.  At  noon  their  desultory,  trivial 
song,  is  diffused  through  the  hamlet  with  the  odor  of  rashers 
of  bacon  ;  at  the  close  of  the  day  they  send  the  toil-worn 
sleepers  to  their  beds."  We  have  a  peal  of  bells  at  Trinity 
Church,  New  York,  but  we  fear  they  have  lost  their  tongue, 
since  they  maintain  a  persistent  silence. 

Watches  were  first  introduced  at  the  close  of  the  fifteenth 
century.  Watchmaking  has  been  carried  to  great  perfection 
by  the  Swiss,  French,  and  English.  Some  minute  watches 
have  been  constructed  of  less  than  half  an  inch  diameter. 

A  watch  has  been  facetiously  designated  as  the  image  of 
modesty,  since  it  always  holds  its  hands  before  its  face,  and 
however  good  its  works  may  be,  it  is  always  running  itself 
down. 

The  astronomical  clock  at  Strasburg  is  composed  of  three 
parts,  respectively  dedicated  to  the  measure  of  time,  to  the 
calendar,  and  to  astronomical  movements.  The  first  thing  to 
be  created  was  a  central  moving  power,  communicating  its 
motion  to  the  whole  of  its  mechanism.  The  motive  power,  which 
is  itself  a  very  perfect  and  exact  time-piece,  indicates  on  an 
outer  face  the  hours  and  their  subdivisions,  as  well  as  the  days 
of  the  week  :  it  strikes  the  hours  and  the  quarters,  and  puts  in 
motion  divers  allegorical  figures.  One  of  the  most  curious  of 
these  is  the  Genius  placed  on  the  first  balustrade,  and  who 
turns,  each  hour,  the  sand-glass  which  he  holds  in  his  hand. 
The  cock  crows,  and  a  procession  of  the  apostles  takes  place 
every  day  at  noon.  In  the  calendar  are  noted  the  months, 
days,  and  dominical  letters,  as  well  as  the  calendar — properly 
so  called,  showing  all  the  saints'  days  in  the  year.  The  plate 
on  which  these  signs  are  marked  revolves  once  in  365  days  for 
the  common,  and  366  for  the  bissextile,  year  ;  marking,  at  the 
same  time,  the  irregularity  which  takes  place  three  consecutive 
times  out  of  four  in  the  secular  years.  The  moveable  feasts, 
which  seem  as  though  they  followed  no  fixed  rule,  are,  never- 


THE   OTCLE   OF   THE   SEASONS.        197 


theless,  obtained  here  by  a  mechanism  of  marvellous  ingenuity, 
in  which  all  the  elements  of  the  ecclesiastical  computation — 
the  milesimal,  the  ^olar  circle,  the  golden  number,  the  domini 
cal  letter,  and  the  epacts — combine  and  produce,  for  an  unli 
mited  period,  the  result  sought.  It  is  at  midnight,  the  31st 
of  December,  that  the  other  moveable  feasts  and  fasts  range 
themselves  on  the  calendar  iu  the  order  and  place  of  their  suc 
cession  for  the  whole  of  the  following  year.  The  third  division 
solves  the  problems  of  astronomy.  It  exhibits  an  orrery,  con 
structed  on  the  Copernican  System,  which  presents  the  mean 
revolutions  of  each  of  the  planets  visible  to  the  naked  eye. 
The  earth,  in  her  movement,  carries  with  her  her  satellite — the 
moon,  which  accomplishes  her  revolution  in  the  space  of  a  lunar 
month.  Besides  this,  the  different  phases  of  the  moon  are 
shown  on  a  separate  globe.  One  sphere  represents  the  appa 
rent  movement  of  the  heavens,  making  its  revolution  in  the 
course  of  the  siderial  day.  It  is  subjected  to  that  almost 
imperceptible  influence  known  as  the  precession  of  the  equi 
noxes.  Separate  mechanisms  produce  the  equations  of  the  sun, 
its  anomaly  and  right  ascension.  Others,  the  principal  equa 
tions  of  the  moon  ;  as  its  erection,  anomaly,  variation,  annual 
equation,  reduction,  and  right  ascension.  Others,  again, 
relate  to  the  equations  of  the  ascending  node  of  the  moon. 
The  rising  and  setting  of  the  sun,  its  passage  to  the  meridian, 
its  eclipses,  and  those  of  the  moon,  are  also  represented  on  the 
dial. 

A  word  respecting  almanacs.  Some  suppose  the  term  to  be 
of  Arabic  origin,  but  whether  it  be  from  al  manach,  to  count,  or 
al  and  men — months,  or  maudlins,  the  course  of  the  months,  is  not 
agreed :  some  give  it  a  Teutonic  origin,  from  the  words  al  and 
mnan,  the  moon.  Each  of  these  conjectures  is  plausible. 
Others  again  assign  it  a  Saxon  derivation.  The  long  almanacs 
of  the  Saxons,  called  "  al-mon-aght,"  were  constructed  of  square 
pieces  of  wood,  horn,  and  sometimes  metal,  about  a  foot  in 
length,  and  two  inches  in  diameter,  on  the  four  sides  of  which 


198  SALAD      FOB     THE      SOCIAL. 


were  graven  the  golden  numbers,  dominical  letters,  and  epacts 
of  the  different  Sundays  in  each  quarter  of  the  year. 

Johannes  de  Monte-Regio,  in  1472,  composed  the  earliest 
European  almanac  that  issued  from  the  press  ;  and,  before  the 
end  of  that  century,  they  became  common  on  the  Continent. 
In  England  they  were  not  in  general  use  until  the  middle  of 
the  sixteenth  century. 

The  almanac,  in  its  simple  form  as  a  calendar,  agrees  in 
many  respects  to  the  fasti  or  festival-roll  of  the  Romans.  It  is 
of  ancient  date,  and  at  first  was  no  more  than  a  calendar  of 
Pagan  festivals.  The  word  calendar  comes  from  the  Latin  verb 
cftlare,  to  call,  or  calens,  its  participle,  on  account  of  the  custom 
of  the  pontiffs  summoning  the  people  to  apprise  them  of  the 
festivals  occurring  in  each  respective  month  :  these  occasions 
are  designated  dies  calenda — the  calends  or  first  days  of  the 
month.  Such  was  the  beginning  of  our  almanac.  The  fasti 
seems  to  be  an  extension  of  the  primitive  religious  calendar, 
and  to  the  pagan  feast-days,  added  the  days  on  which  the 
magistrates  were  elected  and  held  court.  This  was  its  first  civil 
form. 

The  calendar  of  the  almanac  now  in  use  is  an  improvement  on 
that  of  Romulus.  He  divided  the  year  into  ten  months,  begin 
ning  with  March.  His  year  consisted  of  304  days.  Numa 
improved  on  Romulus,  and  added  two  months,  January  to  the 
beginning,  and  February  to  the  end  of  the  year.  In  452  B.  C., 
the  Decemvirs  placed  February  after  January,  and  fixed  the 
order  of  the  months.  The  year  at  this  time  consisted  of  305^ 
dnys.  According  to  the  imperfect  mode  of  reckoning  by  the 
Romans,  after  the  addition  of  the  months  of  January  and  Febru 
ary,  B.  C.,  452,  -the  twenty-fourth  of  February  was  called  the 
sixth  l-efore  the  calends  of  March,  sexto  cahndas.  In  the  interca 
lary  year  this  day  was  repeated  and  styled  bis  sexto  calendos — 
whence  we  derive  the  term  bissextile.  The  corresponding  term  leap 
year,  is,  however,  infelicitously  applied,  inasmuch  as  it  seems 
to  intimate  that  a  day  was  leapt  over,  instead  of  being  thrust 


THE   CYCLE   OF   THE   SEASONS.        199 


in,  which  is  the  fact.  It  may  be  remarked  that  in  the  ecclesiastical 
calendar,  the  intercalary  day  is  still  inserted  between  the  twenty- 
fourth  and  twenty-fifth  of  February.  Bissextile,  or  leap-year, 
therefore  contains  three  hundred  and  sixty-six  days,  and  occurs 
every  fourth  year.  Leap-year  is,  according  to  traditionary  lore, 
invested  with  sundry  privileges  and  immunities  to  the  fair.  The 
Comic  Almanac  says,  '  it  takes  three  springs  to  make  one  hap 
year.1 

Sosigenies,  the  astronomer,  induced  Caesar  to  abolish  the  lunar 
year,  and  regulate  time  by  the  sun.  Gregory  the  Thirteenth, 
in  1582,  corrected  the  calendar,  and  placed  it  on  its  present 
basis.  The  Gregorian  calendar  was  received  at  once  by  all  the 
Roman  Catholic  States  of  Europe.  The  Protestant  powers 
refused,  for  some  time,  to  adopt  it.  England  did  not  receive  it 
till  1752.  In  that  year,  the  Julian  calendar,  or  old  style,  was 
abolished,  and  the  Gregorian,  or  new  style,  adopted.  This  was 
done  by  dropping  eleven  days,  the  excess  of  the  Julian  over  the 
true  solar  time.  Russia  still  adheres  to  the  old. 

Of  the  written  calendars,  perhaps  the  most  interesting,  as  well 
as  the  most  ancient,  were  the  "  folding-almanacs,"  of  which  there 
are  a  number  still  to  be  seen,  in  a  fine  state  of  preservation,  in 
the  British  and  Oxford  Museums.  Some  are  in  Latin  ;  but 
others  again,  dating  in  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  are 
in  English.  Not  a  few  of  these  compositions  were  of  an  astro 
logical  nature,  and  amongst  them  may  be  instanced  one  by  the 
famous  Roger  Bacon,  and  another  by  the  notorious  Dr.  Lee. 

In  some  of  the  almanacs  of  the  sixteenth  century  may  be 
found  the  original  of  the  well-known  rhymes  on  the  number  of 
days  in  each  mouth.  They  appear  slightly  different  from  our 
modern  version  : 

"  April,  June,  and  September, 
Thirty  daies  as  November : 
Each  month  also  doth  never  vary, 
From  thirty-one,  save  February 
Which  twenty-eight  doth  still  confine, 
Save  on  Leap-yeare,  then  twenty-nine." 


200  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


A  prominent  feature  of  the  earlier  almanacs  was  the  prognos 
tications  respecting  the  weather,  calculated  from  the  various 
phases  of  the  moon.  Moore's  A.lmanac  acquired  its  great  noto 
riety  by  this,  its  sale  having  at  one  time  reached  480,000 
copies.  These  astrological  predictions  were  even  sanctioned  by 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

Astrology  is  not  yet  extinct,  not  only  have  we  even  seen  a 
living  professor  of  that  occult  and  venerable  science,  but  the  well 
known  "  Raphael's  Prophetic  Almanac,"  which  has  existed 
about  thirty-five  years,  is  still  annually  issued  in  London.  Now 
as  to  the  origin  of  the  divisions  of  time  ! 

Before  the  death  of  JACOB,  which  happened  in  1689,  B.  C., 
we  find  that  several  nations  were  so  well  acquainted  with  the 
revolutions  of  the  Moon,  as  to  measure  by  them  the  duration  of 
their  year.  It  had  been  a  universal  custom  among  all  nations  of 
antiquity  as  well  as  the  Jews,  to  divide  time  into  a  portion  of  a 
iceek  or  sercn  days  ;  this  undoubtedly  arose  from  the  tradition 
with  regard  to  the  origin  of  the  world.  It  was  natural  for 
those  nations,  who  lived  a  pastoral  life,  or  who  lived  under  a 
serene  sky,  to  observe,  that  the  various  appearances  of  the 
moon  were  completed  nearly  in  four  weeks  ;  hence,  the  division 
of  a  month.  Those  people  again  who  lived  by  agriculture,  and 
were  acquainted  with  the  division  of  a  month,  would  naturally 
remark  that  twelve  of  these  brought  back  the  same  temperature 
of  air,  or  the  same  seasons  ;  hence  the  origin  of  what  is  called 
the  lunar  year,  which  has  everywhere  been  recognized  in  the 
infancy  of  science.  This,  together  with  the  observations  of  the 
fixed  stars  (which  we  learn  from  the  book  of  Job,  who,  accord 
ing  to  the  best  writers,  was  contemporary  with  Jacob)  must  have 
been  very  ancient,  and  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  solar  year. 

The  first  division  of  the  day  was  into  morning,  noon,  and 
night ;  an  i  ihese.are  the  only  parts  of  a  day  mentioned  in  the 
Old  Testament.  But  it  is  probable  that  men  of  science 
had  other  more  accurate  divisions,  because  we  find  they  had 
sun-dials.  Afterwards  they  divided  their  days  into  twelve 


THE   CYCLE   OF   THE   SEASONS.        201 


hours  ;  and  to  this  division  our  Saviour  refers  when  he  says, 
"  Are  there  not  twelve  hours  in  a  day  ?"  But  their  hours  must 
have  been  of  different  lengths,  at  different  seasons  of  the  year  ; 
for  their  hour  was  a  twelfth  part  of  the  time  the  sun  continued 
above  the  horizon.  And  as  this  time  is  longer  in  summer  than 
in  winter,  their  summer  hours  must  therefore  have  been  longer 
than  their  winter  hours.  This  difference,  however,  would  not 
be  so  very  sensible  in  that  country  as  here,  as  Judea  is  much 
-nearer  to  the  equator  than  we  are,  and  the  days  there,  in  con 
sequence,  nearer  equal.  Their  hours  were  computed  from  sun 
rise  ;  their  third  hour  divided  the  space  between  sun-rising  and 
noon  ;  the  ninth  hour  divided  the  space  between  noon  and  sun 
set.  But  in  the  Xew  Testament,  we  find  that  they  sometimes 
made  use  of  the  Roman  mode  of  reckoning. 

The  Roman  reckoning  was  the  same  as  ours,  beginning  at 
midnight,  and  reckoning  to  noon,  twelve  hours  ;  and  again 
from  noon  till  midnight. 

The  Hebrews  divided  their  night  into  four  watches  of  three 
hours  each.  The  first  from  six  to  nine  in  the  evening  ;  the 
second  from  nine  to  twelve  ;  the  third  from  midnight  to  three 
in  the  morning  ;  and  the  last  to  six  or  sun-rising. 

The  Jews  began  their  year  in  March,  and  the  months  were  : 
— XISAX,  ZIF,  SIVAN,  TAMUZ,  AB,  ELUL,  TISRI,  BUL,  CISLIEU, 
TEBEETH,  SHEBAT,  ADAR.  Their  civil  year  commenced  with 
the  new  moon  near  the  autumnal  equinox,  in  the  month  called 
TISRI,  corresponding  with  part  of  our  Septe?nber  and  October. 

The  Jewish  months  were  alternately  29  and  30  days  and 
their  year  of  twelve  lunations,  354  days.  To  recover  the  lost 
days,  they  added  a  whole  mouth  after  every  two  or  three  years, 
following  their  twelfth  mouth  of  Adar,  and  they  called  this  extra 
month  Ve-adar. 

The  MOHAMMEDAN'S  reckon  their  days  from  sun-set  till  sun 
rise.  The  CHINESE  begin  theirs  an  hour  before  midnight, 
and  divide  the  rotation  into  12  parts  of  2  of  our  hours,  and 
give  a  name  to  each  division.  The  HIXDOOS  divide  their  days 

0* 


202  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


into  four  watches,  and  each  watch  into  guhrees  of  24  minutes 
each. 

The  great  and  lesser  divisions  of  time  into  cycles,  epochs, 
and  eras,  years,  months,  weeks,  and  days  ;  not  to  mention 
hours,  minutes,  and  seconds — all  respectively  subserve  the 
purposes  of,  and  to  a  great  exteat  exert  a  controlling  influence 
upon  mundane  affairs.  The  most  apparent  sway  of  these  natu 
ral  or  artificial  divisions,  is  observable  in  the  implicit  obedience 
which  nature  universally  yields  to  the  alternations  of  day  and 
night,  as  the  allotments  assigned  to  activity  and  repose.  It 
is  true  there  are  some  slight  infringements  upon  the  rule,  by 
the  too  servile  devotees  to  fashion  and  folly,  who  are  accus 
tomed  to  reverse  the  order  of  nature  :  these,  however,  but  add 
confirmation  to  the  rule.  Again,  there  seems  to  exist  some- 
difficulty  as  to  the  right  determining  of  the  precise  time  at 
which  the  day  should  begin  and  terminate. 

Among  the  ancient  nations  the  day  began  at  sunrise  and 
continued  till  its  light  expired  :  others  supposed  their  day  to 
commence  at  sunset  :  the  Arabians,  again,  make  theirs  to 
begin  at  noon,  with  all  navigators  and  astronomers  :  while  we, 
in  common  with  the  ancient  Egyptians,  and  most  of  the 
modern  Europeans,  date  from  midnight,  which,  allowing  of  all 
the  waking  hours  of  day  to  come  together,  is  manifestly  the 
most  convenient  and  rational. 

The  somewhat  arbitrary  subdivisions  of  time  into  morning 
forenoon,  mid-day,  afternoon,  evening,  and  night,  are  yet  not 
without  significance  :  the  same  can  scarcely  be  claimed  for  the 
more  minute  distributions  of  time  into  hours,  minutes,  and 
seconds.  Of  its  sidereal  measurements  we  shall  hereafter  speak 
in  connection  with  the  zodiacal  signs  of  the  months. 

The  Egyptians  and  Chaldeans  dated  their  new  year  from  the 
autumnal  equinox  ;  so  did  the  Jews  for*  all  civil  purposes,  but 
their  ecclesiastical  year  began  with  the  vernal.  The  Moham 
medans  begin  their  year  the  minute  the  sun  enters  Aries,  the 
day  that  Dremschid,  the  Persian  monarch,  made  his  public 


THE   CYCLE   OF   THE   SEASONS.         203 


entry  into  Persepolis  ;  in  commemoration  of  which  event,  he 
transferred  the  beginning  of  the  year  from  its  previous  date 
of  the  autumnal  equinox  to  that  of  the  springtide.  The  Turks 
and  Arabs  are  said  to  date  their  year  from  the  middle  of  July  ; 
and  the  Abyssinians  on  the  26th  of  August,  as  if  to  increase 
the  variety,  and  confound  the  calendar. 

The  origin  of  the  names  of  the  days  is  so  remote  as  to  be 
somewhat  involved  in  the  mists  of  antiquity.  According  to  the 
best  authorities,  they  derived  their  designation  from  the  plan 
ets,  or  deities  worshipped  by  Pagan  nations. 

The  Romans  designated  their  days  after  the  heavenly 
bodies,  or  after  some  of  their  gods,  as  follows  : 

SUNDAY — Dies  Soils,  the  day  of  the  SUN. 
MONDAY — Dies  Luna,  the  day  of  the  Moox. 
TUESDAY — Dies  Martis,  the  day  of  MARS. 
WEDNESDAY — Dies  Mercurii,  the  day  of  MERCURY. 
THURSDAY — Dies  Joi-is,  the  day  of  JUPITER. 
FRIDAY — Dies  Veneris,  the  day  of  VENUS. 
SATURDAY — Dies  Saturni,  the  day  of  SATURN. 

The  French,  perpetuating  the  custom  received  from  the 
Romans,  still  retain  these  names,  Lundi,  Mardi,  Mercredi,  &c. 
While  we  have  adopted  from  the  Saxons  the  appellations  of 
their  idols,  which  may  be  traced  as  follows  : — thus  Sunday, 
from  Sunnan-daeg,  from  being  dedicated  to  the  worship  of  the 
sun  ;  Monday,  Monan-daeg,  to  the  moon  ;  Tuesday,  from 
Tuisco,  the  most  ancient  of  the  Teutonic  deities  ;  Wednesday, 
a  contraction  of  Wodirfs,  or  Odin's  day  ;  Thursday,  from 
Thor's-day,  or  the  thunderer's  day,  devoted  to  the  worship  of 
Thor  ;  Friday,  from  Friga's-daeg  ;  and  Saturday,  from  Seater- 
daeg,  equivalent  to  Saturn's  day. 

Days,  weeks,  and  months  serve  as  the  way-marks  of  Time, 
by  which  we  measure  our  progress  in  the  journey  of  life  ;  while 
the  succession  of  the  seasons,  like  the  alternations  of  day  and 
night,  remind  us  of  its  ever-varying  phases  and  changes,  The 


204  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


early  budding  and  blossoming  of  human  existence,  so  redolent  of 
sportive  fancies  and  gay  flowers,  finds  its  emblem  in  the  vernal 
beauty  and  freshness  of  spring  ;  while  the  russet  tints  and 
golden  fruits, of  autumn,  and  the  blanched  face  and  icy  breath 
of  winter,  present  the  no  less  significant  symbols  of  manhood  in 
its  prime  and  its  decadence.  The  seasons  and  their  change  are 
rife  with  attractive  interest  to  the  contemplative  mind  ;  they 
afford  an  ever-enduring  feast,  to  regale  and  gladden  the  sense, 
and  refine  the  soul.  The  youth  of  the  year,  like  the  spring 
tide  of  life,  is  full  of  hope,  buoyancy,  and  joyousness.  Radiant 
in  freshened  beauty,  spring  diffuses  the  light  of  her  kindling 
smiles,  and  the  genial  influence  of  her  nectared  breath,  glad 
dens  the  face  of  all  created  things.  The  protracted  austerity 
of  winter's  desolation  but  inspires  us  with  a  more  earnest  wel 
come  for  the  ravishing  charms  and  jubilant  voices  of  the  new 
born  spring.  What  music  is  there  even  in  her  very  name  1 
What  new  beauties  greet  us  on  every  side — what  pleasant 
objects  delight  the  eye,  and  what  a  glowing  pleasure  does  she 
diffuse  about  the  heart  !  We  revel  in  the  rich  influence  of  her 
varied  fascinations,  till  the  soul  longs  to  mingle  in  the  sunshine, 
with  the  breeze,  the  buds  and  blossoms,  that  send  upward  their 
fragrant  incense. 

The  ancients  seem  to  have  followed  the  indications  of  nature 
in  making  the  commencement  of  the  year  to  synchronize  with 
the  spring  mouth  ;  but  modern  usage  adopted  a  different 
standard.  We  propose  to  bring  in  successive  review  the  months. 
The  ancients  were  accustomed  to  group  together  the  various 
clusters  of  stars,  for  their  more  ready  recognition.  To  some  of 
these  groups,  which  they  termed  constellations,  they  gave  the 
names  of  a  few  celebrated  personages  of  their  day,  and  others 
they  named  after  such  birds,  beasts,  or  insects  as  seemed  to  be 
portrayed  in.  the  space  described  by  these  stellar  objects. 
The  divisions  of  the  heavens  designated,  to  some  extent,  the 
seasons  of  the  year,  and  hence  the  origin  of  the  signs  of  the 
zodiac.  In  the  days  of  Hipparchus,  the  month  of  January  was 


THE   CYCLE  OF   THE   SEASONS.        205 


denoted  by  Aquarius,  or  the  water-bearer,  because  it  was 
observed  that  when  the  sun  entered  this  constellation,  it  was 
usually  a  wintry  and  wet  season  of  the  year.  Thus  it  was 
represented  under  the  figure  of  a  man  pouring  out  water  from 
an  urn. 

JANUARY,  our  first  month  (so  called  from  Janus,  an  ancient 
king  of  Italy,  who  was  deified  after  his  death),  is  derived 
from  the  Latin  word  Januarius.  Janus,  was  reputed  to 
preside  over  the  gate  of  heaven,  the  name  of  the  month  is 
indicative  of  its  being  at  the  opening  of  the  New  Year. 
Janus  was  represented  with  two  faces,  looking  in  oppo 
site  directions  :  one  old,  the  other  youthful,  representing  the 
old  and  the  new  era.  He  held  a  key  in  his  hand,  on  which 
were  the  numbers  365,  the  number  of  days  in  a  year  which  he 
unlocked  and  presided  over.  The  temple  in  Rome,  erected  to 
his  memory,  was  quadrangular,  having  one  door  and  three  win 
dows  on  each  side.  It  stood  upon  the  Janiculum  Hill,  and 
was  always  kept  open  in  time  of  war.  It  was  closed  only  three 
times  during  the  lapse  of  seven  hundred  years.  It  was 
closed  at  the  time  of  the  birth  of  Christ,  for  then  the  whole 
world  was  at  peace.  Our  Saxon  ancestors  called  January, 

Wolf-monat,  or  "  Wolf-month,"  on  account  of  the  famished 
wolves  which  invaded  their  villages  ;  they  also  styled  it  Aeften 

Yala,  or  after  Christmas. 

Prince,  the  peasant-poet,  thus  apostrophizes  the  initial 
month  : — 

He  cometh !  the  elder  born  child  of  the  year, 
With  a  turbulent  voice,  and  a  visage  austere  ; 
But  his  cold,  callous  hand,-  and  his  boreal  breath, 
Prepare  for  new  life,  the  low  relics  of  death  ; 
A  changeling  in  temper,  but  ever  sublime, 
Is  this  moody,  mad  offspring  of  stern  winter  time. 

The  advent  of  the  New  Year  has  been  from  time  immemo 
rial  kept  as  a  day  of  rejoicing.  By  the  Greeks  it  was  a  solemn 


206  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


festival  :  by  the  Romans  one  of  feasting  and  congratulation. 
Throughout  Christendom  it  is  kept  as  a  holiday.  Bells  are 
rung  at  midnight  to  celebrate  the  exit  of  the  old,  and  the 
advent  of  the  new  year. 

The  commencement  of  the  year,  has  at  different  times  been 
assigned  to  the  25th  of  December,  or  Christmas  day,  the  1st 
of  January,  or  the  day  of  Circumcision,  and  the  25th  of 
March,  or  Easter  day,  commemorative  of  the  Resurrection. 

Despite  its  icy  breath  and  frigid  aspect,  rugged  wiuter 
seems  to  be  prophetic  of  a  joyous  new  existence,  as  those 
who  have  become  frosted  with  age  appear  for  the  time  to  have 
acquired  a  spirit  of  rejuvenescence.  It  forms  a  sort  of  resting- 
place  in  the  progress  of  life's  journey,  from  which  we  all  per 
suade  ourselves,  however  we  may  deprecate  the  past,  that  the 
future  is  gilded  with  Iris  hopes  of  happiness.  If  the  external 
aspect  of  nature  appear  cheerless  and  chilly,  the  scene  is  but 
the  more  heightened  by  the  contrast  of  the  sunny  smiles  and 
generous  hospitalities  of  the  happy  fireside  of  kindred  and 
friends.  There  is  something  picturesque  as  well  as  grateful  in 
this  time-honored  custom  of  commemorating  the  nativity  of  the 
year,  by  acts  of  beneficence  and  votive  offerings  to  friendship. 

Friendly  interchange  of  visits,  congratulations  and  the  pre 
sentation  of  gifts,  seem  to  have  been  in  vogue  in  every  age. 
The  ancient  Druids  were  accustomed  to  cut  the  sacred  misletoe, 
with  a  golden  knife,  in  a  forest  dedicated  to  the  gods,  and  to 
distribute  its  branches  with  much  ceremony,  as  new  year's  gifts 
to  the  people. 

Of  the  special  holidays  and  festivals  of  this  month,  the  first 
in  order  is  that  of  Circumcision — a  festival  of  the  Romish 
church,  and  adopted  also  by  the  Episcopacy  since  the  year  1550. 
The  next  festival  in  the  Calendar  is  that  styled  Epiphany,  or 
Ticelfth-day — indicating  the  manifestation  of  Christ  to  the 
Gentile  world,  which  event  is  ascribed  to  this  date.  This 
holiday  used  to  be  characterized  in  Saxon  times  by  the 
wassail-bowl — a  spiced  decoction,  deriving  its  name  from  wees- 


THE   CYCLE   OF  THE   SEASONS.         207 


had  (be  healthy),  the  toast  the  sturdy  old  Saxons  adopted  on 
the  occasion  of  their  libations. 

The  second,  and  briefest  of  the  family  of  months — February, 
derives  its  name  from  Februo,  to  purify  ;  hence  Felruarius,  the 
appellation  assigned  by  the  Romans  to  the  expiatory  sacrifices 
they  were  accustomed  to  offer  at  this  season.  Pisces,  the 
constellation  over  which  Xeptune  was  supposed  to  preside,  was 
regarded  by  the  ancients  as  the  last  of  the  winter  signs,  and 
was  represented  under  the  figure  of  two  fishes  ;  but  at  present 
it  is  the  first  in  order  of  the  stellar  groups  of  the  zodiac,  pre 
siding  over  the  vernal  equinox. 

The  Saxon  name  for  this  month  was  spront-kele,  also  sal-monath, 
or  pancake  month,  from  their  custom  of  offering  cakes  to  the 
sun,  for  his  increasing  power. 

Midway  in  this  month  comes  the  festival  of  St.  Valentine. 
All  we  know  of  him  is  that  he  was  canonized  in  consequence 
of  his  having  suffered  martyrdom  in  the  third  century,  under 
the  emperor  Claudius.*  Some  have  conjectured  that  the  cus 
tom  of  devoting  this  day  to  Cupid  is  traceable  to  the  ancient 
Romans,  whose  festivals,  called  Lupercalia,  were  celebrated 
about  this  time.  On  these  occasions,  amidst  a  variety  of  cere 
monies,  the  names  of  young  women  were  placed  in  a  box,  from 
which  they  were  drawn  by  a  band  of  devotees,  as  chance 
directed. 

The  practical  joking  which  prevails  so  universally  on  the  day 
in  question,  the  love  of  fun  and  caricature  with  Cupid,  is  of 
comparatively  modern  date.  Formerly,  love-making  among  our 
sober  progenitors  wore  a  much  more  grave  and  demure  aspect  : 


*  "St.  Valentine  was  a  holy  priest  of  Rome,  who,  with  St.  Mariua  and  his  family, 
assisted  the  martyrs  In  the  persecution  under  Claudius  II.  He  was  apprehended,  and 
Bent  by  the  Emperor  to  the  Prefect  of  Rome,  who,  on  finding  all  his  efforts  to  make  him 
renounce  his  faith  ineffectual,  commanded  him  to  be  beaten  with  clubs,  and  afterwards 
beheaded;  and^this  occurred  on  the  14th.  About  the  year  270,  Pope  Julius  is  said  to 
have  built  a  church  near  Ponte  Mole,  to  his  memory,  which  for  a  long  time  gave  name 
to  the  gate  afterwards  called  Porta  del  Populo.  The  greatest  part  of  hi*  relics  are 
preserved  in  the  Church  of  St.  Praxedes. 


208  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


it  was  not  a  matter  to  be  trifled  with,  that  of  linking  hearts 
and  hands,  with  the  joint  fortunes  or  misfortunes  of  life. 

Oh  love  !   how  potent  is  thy  sway  ; 

Thou'rt  terrible,  indeed,  to  most  men  ! 
But  once  a  year  there  comes  a  day 

When  thou  tormentest  chiefly  postmen. 
Oh  hard  indeed  the  lot  must  be 

Of  him  who  wears  thy  galling  fetters  ! 
Eut  e'en  more  miserable  he, 

Who  must  go  round  with  all  thy  letters. 

Without  pretending  to  estimate  the  obligations  of  many  of 
the  devotees  to  Hymen  to  this  worthy  saint's  influence,  the 
festival,  occurring  half-way  in  this  most  inclement  and  unpopular 
month,  certainly  tends  to  beguile  many  of  its  objectionable 
accompaniments — snow,  sleet,  and  that  worst  of  all  kinds  of 
weather — a  penetrating  thaw,  against  which  even  a  suit  of 
mail  may  be  said  to  be  scarcely  impervious.  Slirove-Tuesday 
and  Ash-Wednesday  occur  in  this  month,  both  being  initiatory 
days  to  the  season  of  Lent  ;  the  religious  observance  of  which 
originated  with  the  Romish  Church. 

Shrove-Tuesday  regulates  most  of  the  movable  feasts.  It 
is  the  next  after  the  first  new  moon  in  the  month  of  February, 
and  follows  the  first  Sunday  in  Lent.  Formerly,  the  people 
were  expected  to  prepare  themselves  for  Lent  by  confessing 
themselves,  hence  the  word  shrove,. 

Ash-Wednesday  is  the  first  day  of  Lent,  supposed  to  have 
been  so  called  from  a  custom  in  the  Church  of  sprinkling  ashes 
that  day  on  the  heads  of  the  penitents. 

MARCH  is  so  called  from  Mars,  the  reputed  father  of  Romu 
lus,  and  god  of  war.  It  was,  as  already  intimated,  placed  as 
the  first  month  by  some  of  the  ancients,  and  by  others  as  the 
third,  fourth,  or  fifth,  and  even  the  tenth  month  of  the  year. 

The  SAXONS  called  it  lend  monath,  or  length  month, 
because  the  days  then  begin  in  length  to  exceed  the  nights. 


THE   CYCLE   OF   THE   SEASONS.         209 


Lenct,  now  called  Lent,  means  spring  ;  hence  March  was  the 
spring  month.  The  Saxons  also  called  it  Illyd-monath,  from 
hlyd,  which  means  stormy,  and  in  this  cense  March  was  the 
stormy  month. 

March  is  a  rude,  and  sometimes  boisterous  month,  possessing 
many  of  the  characteristics  of  winter,  yet  awakening  sensations 
more  pleasant  than  the  two  following  months,  for  it  gives  us 
the  first  announcement  and  taste  of  spring.  What  can  equal 
the  delight  of  the  heart  at  the  very  first  glimpse  of  spring 
— the  first  peeping  of  buds  and  green  herbs  ?  It  is  like  a 
new  life  infused  into  our  bosoms.  A  spirit  of  tenderness — a 
burst  of  freshness  and  luxury  of  feeling  possesses  us  ;  and 
though  fifty  springs  have  broken  upon  us,  their  joy,  unlike 
many  joys  of  time,  is  not  an  atom  impaired. 

True  it  is  that  blustering,  rude  Boreas  causes  boisterous 
excitement  about  this  time,  as  if  seeking  to  awaken  nature 
from  her  long  sleep  of  winter  ;  while  dusty  particles  scorn  all 
local  habitation,  performing  fantastic  gyrations  in  the  air, 
to  the  serious  discomfiture  of  our  physical  organs,  especially  the 
optical  and  olfactory. 

The  dry  winds  of  lusty  March,  however  they  may  be  depre 
cated  for  their  personal  incivilities,  arc  nevertheless  useful  to 
the  purposes  of  agriculture.  Its  zodiacal  sign,  Aries,  was 
assigned  to  this,  originally  the  first  month  of  the  year,  because 
the  ancients  considered  the  ram  as  the  father  of  the  fleecy 
flock  which  afforded  them  both  food  and  raiment. 

St.  David's  Day  is  celebrated  by  the  Welsh  as  commemora 
tive  of  their  patron  Saint  :  it  occurs  on  the  first  of  the  month. 

We  now  come  to  the  festival  held  in  honor  of  the  tutelar 
Saint  of  Ould  Ireland — Saint  Patrick — who,  according  to 
ancient  lore,  in  the  year  of  grace  433  landed  near  Wicklow, 
having,  it  is  said,  been  born  at  Kilpatrick,  Scotland.  His 
glorious  memory  is  mnernonized  by  the  well-known  Shamrack. 
The  real  name  of  this  notable  apostle  of  the  Irish  was  Maenwyn. 
Pope  Celestine  gave  him  his  ecclesiastical  patronymic  of  Patri- 


210  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


cus,  when  he  consecrated  him  as  bishop  to  Ireland  in  433,  A.D. 
Originally  there  was  a  dispute,  according  to  Lover,  as  to  the 
true  anniversary  of  this  renowned  saint,  some  supposing  the 
eighth  and  others  the  ninth  to  be  the  correct  date  :  the  humor 
ist,  however,  represents  a  priest  as  settling  the  difficulty  as 
follows  : 

Says  he,  "  Boys,  don't  be  fighting  for  eight  or  for  nine  ; 
Don't  be  always  dividing — but  sometimes  combine. 
Combine  eight  with  nine,  and  seventeen  is  the  mark. 
So  let  that  be  his  birth-day."    "  Amen,;j  says  the  clerk. 
So  they  all  got  blind  drunk — which  completed  their  bliss, 
And  we  keep  up  the  practice  from  that  day  to  this. 

St.  Agnes'  Eve  was  deemed  propitious  for  young  maidens  in 
the  affair  of  securing  good  husbands  ;  and  St.  PauTs  Day  was 
also  regarded  as  one  among  the  numerous  days  of  ominous 
character  by  the  superstitious  of  olden  time. 

Easter  Sunday  is  always  the  first  Sunday  after  the  full  moon 
which  happens  upon,  or  next  after,  the  21st  day  of  March,  and 
if  the  full  moon  should  occur  upon  a  Sunday,  Easter  clay  is  the 
Sunday  after.  It  was  so  fixed  in  early  times,  that  the  Chris 
tians  might  avoid  the  celebration  of  Easter  at  the  time  of  the 
Jewish  passover,  held  on  the  very  day  of  the  full  moon. 

Palm,  or  Passion  Sunday,  is  the  first  Sunday  before  Easter, 
so  called  in  commemoration  of  Christ's  entering  into  Jerusalem, 
eight  days  before  the  pass.over.  The  Passover  of  the  Jews 
closely  agrees  with  the  time  when  the  sun  crosses  or  pastes  over 
the  equator,  an  event  that  could  hardly  fail  to  be  celebrated 
with  rites  and  ceremonies  by  a  people  so  devoted  to  astronomy 
as  the  Egyptians  who  had  educated  Moses.  Pascha  was  the 
primitive  term,  the  English  name  passover  being  derived  from 
God's  passing  over  the  houses  of  the  Israelites  and  sparing 
their  first-born,  when  those  of  the  Egyptians  were  put  to 
death. 

Lady-day  occurs  on  the  25th.     Its  title  is  also  derived  from 


THE   CYCLE   OF  THE   SEASONS.        211 


the  Roman  calendar  and  memorializes  the  Annunciation  of  the 
Virgin.  It  is  the  high  festival  of  Catholicism,  which,  in  conse 
quence  of  the  extreme  honors  it  pays  to  the  Virgin  Mary,  has 
been  sometimes  termed  the  Marian  Church. 

Ascension  Day,  called  also  Holy  Thursday,  is  celebrated  by 
the  Church  as  the  day  on  which  our  Saviour  ascended  into 
heaven,  which  happened  the  fortieth  day  after  the  resurrec 
tion. 

APRIL,  is  derived  from  aperio,  to  open.  The  first  of  April  was 
by  the  Romans  consecrated  to  Venus,  the  goddess  of  beauty,  as 
the  earth  begins  at  this  time  to  be  covered  with  beautiful 
flowers. 

The  Saxons  called  it  oster,  or  easier  month,  it  being  the  time 
when  the  feast  of  the  Saxon  goddess,  Eastre,  Easter  or  Eoster, 
was  celebrated. 

The  month  of  April  is  one  of  alternating  smiles  and  tears.  By 
some  writers  it  has  been  designated  the  sweetest  of  the  series, 
because  it  ushers  in  the  "delicate-footed  May." 

Sighing,  storming,  singing,  smiling, 
With  her  many  moods  beguiling, 

April  walks  the  wakening  earth. 
TVheresoe'er  she  looks  and  lingers, 
Wheresoe'er  she  lays  her  fingers. 

Some  new  charm  starts  into  birth. 
Fitful  clouds  about  her  sweeping, 
Coming,  going,  frowning,  weeping, 

Melt  in  fertile  blessings  round. 
Frequent  rainbows  that  embrace  her, 
And  with  gorgeous  girdles  grace  her, 
Dropping  flowers  upon  the  ground.* 

This  month,  it  will  be  recollected,  is  introduced  by  the  equi 
vocal  practice  of  imposing  upon  our  credulity,  under  the  style 
and  title  of  April-fooling.  Antiquarians  have  puzzled  them- 

*J.  C.  Prince. 


212  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


selves  and  their  readers  by  their  vain  attempts  to  account  for 
a  custom,  which  still  obtains  even  among  some  of  the  more  sapi 
ent  and  refined.  Without,  therefore,  following  in  their  wake,  and 
thus  incur  the  risk  of  suspicion  with  the  reader,  that  we  mean  to 
illustrate  the  practice  at  his  expense — we  shall  content  ourselves 
by  simply  citing  the  emphatic  words  of  an  old  and  respectable 
authority — Mr.  Douce.  "After  all  the  conjectures,"  he  says, 
"which  have  been  formed  touching  its  origin,  it  is  certainly 
borrowed  from  the  French,  and  may,  I  think,  be  deduced  from 
this  simple  analogy.  The  French  call  their  April  fish  (Pois- 
sons  d'Avril,) — silly  mackerel,  or  simpletons,  which  suffer 
themselves  to  be  caught  in  this  month.  But,  as  with  us,"  he 
continues,  "April  is  not  the  season  of  that  fish,  we  have  very 
properly  substituted  the  word — fools." 

Be  very  circumspect  on  this  day  of  attending  to  gratuitous 
advice,  given  in  the  street,  respecting  your  costume  or  appear 
ance.  Do  not  heed  any  officious  person  who  may  insist  upon 
your  picking  up  anything  he  may  imagine  you  have  dropped. 

"Few  persons  are  aware  of  the  real  derivation  of  many  of  the 
old  customs  which  have  been  handed  down  almost  from  time 
immemorial.  Thus,  decking  the  house  with  evergreens  at 
Christmas  is  the  remains  of  a  pagan  superstition.  In  Great 
Britain  the  holly  is  used  for  this  purpose,  and  the  holly  in 
the  days  of  paganism  was  dedicated  to  Saturn,  as  the  mistletoe 
was  to  Friga,  the  Scandinavian  Venus.  The  yule  log  bears 
reference  to  the  constant  fire  kept  up  by  the  priests  of  Baal, 
and  the  Maypole,  with  all  its  adjuncts,  offers  an  imitation  of 
the  games  formerly  held  in  honor  of  the  goddess  Flora.'' 

About  the  nineteenth  day  the  sun  enters  Taurus—  a  con 
stellation  which  includes  one  hundred  and  forty-one  stars,  the 
principal  of  which  is  Aldebaran,  of  the  first  magnitude:  it  also 
comprises  two  remarkable  representations,  viz. :  the  Pleiades, 
and  the  Hyades.  Alcyone,  the  principal  star  in  the  Pleiades,  is 
supposed  by  Prof.  Madler  to  be  the  grand  central  sun  iii  the 
universe. 


THE   CYCLE   OF   THE   SEASONS.         213 


Good  Friday  is  designed  to  commemorate  the  crucifixion.  It 
is  religiously  regarded  by  the  Episcopacy  as  a  solemn  festival 
of  the  church  :  and  at  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  it  is  kept  up  in  the 
service  of  the  Tenebra — a  ceremonial  representing  the  entomb 
ment  of  the  Saviour.  Cross-buns  used  on  this  day,  are  in  imi 
tation  of  the  ecclesiastical  eulogia,  or  consecrated  loaves,  for 
merly  bestowed  in  the  church  as  alms,  or  given  to  those,  who, 
from  any  impediment  could  not  receive  the  host.  It  will  be 
remembered  (speaking  of  Friday)  that  popular  superstition  has 
marked  this  day  of  the  week  as  "  unlucky."  This  vulgar  notion 
arose  doubtless  from  the  fact  of  the  crucifixion  having  been 
supposed  to  occur  on  that  day,  with  all  its  solemn  and  ominous 
accessories  of  darkness  and  earthquake.  Leigh  Hunt  records 
it  against  no  less  a  name  than  Byrou's,  that  he  was  the  victim 
of  this  silly  superstition  ;  and — alas  that  it  is  so — there  are 
many  still  extant  who  confess  to  so  ludicrous  a  weakness, 
especially  among  sailors  and  silly  women.  The  conceit  doubt 
less  took  its  rise  in  heathen  times — the  monks  endorsing  the 
usage  in  their  designating  certain  days  of  their  calendar  by 
the  names  dies  atri  and  dies  albi. 

In  order  to  put  a  stop  to  the  superstition  which  attached  to 
this  unlucky  day,  a  company  of  men  once  laid  the  timbers  of  a 
ship  on  Friday,  launched  her  on  Friday  ;  after  some  trouble  they 
found  a  captain  of  the  name  of  Friday,  and  with  still  more 
trouble  procured  men  who  were  willing  to  sail  in  her  on  that 
day.  She  started  on  a  Friday  for  her  destination,  and  was  never 
more  heard  of.  This  fact  is  accredited,  being  stoutly  insisted 
upon  by  all  sailors. 

If  Friday  was  ever  ill-omened,  its  reputation  is  sufficiently 
redeemed,  for  it  was  on  that  day  that  Columbus  discovered  the 
American  continent,  that  George  Washington  was  born,  and 
that  the  Pilgrim  fathers  reached  the  Plymouth  rock. 

Ancient  calendars  designate  two  days  in  each  month  as 
unfortunate,  namely — of  January,  the  first  and  seventh  ;  Febru 
ary,  the  third  aud  fourth  ;  March,  the  first  and  fourth  ;  April, 


214  SALAD     FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


the  tenth  and  eleventh  ;  May,  the  third  and  seventh  ;  June,  the 
tenth  and  fifteenth  ;  July,  the  tenth  and  thirteenth  ;  August, 
the  first  and  second  ;  September,  the  third  and  tenth  ;  Octo 
ber,  the  third  and  tenth  ;  November,  the  third  and  £fth  ; 
December,  the  seventh  and  tenth.  Each  of  these  days  was 
devoted  to  some  peculiar  fatality. 

"  The  flowery  May,  who  from  her  green  lap  throws 
The  yellow  cowslip  and  the  pale  primrose. 
Hail,  bounteous  May,  that  dost  inspire 
Mirth  and  youth,  and  warm  desire  ; 
Woods  and  groves  are  of  thy  dressing, 
Hill  and  dale  doth  boast  thy  blessing. 
Thus  we  salute  thee  with  an  early  song, 
And  welcome  ,thee,  and  wish  thee  long." 

Thus  sung  the  "blind  old  bard"  of  English  verse,  and  a 
right  fruitful  theme  has  this  "queen  month"  of  the  calendar 
been  to  the  many  worshippers  of  the  muse  from  the  days  of 
old  Chaucer  down  to  our  own. 

May  is  the  most  instructive  and  religious,  as  well  as  the  most 
delightful  of  all  festival  times.  It  seems  to  be  the  bridal 
season  of  heaven  and  earth,  and  the  whole  month  the  honey 
moon. 

"  Buds  are  filling,  leaves  are  swelling, 

Flowers  on  Held,  and  bloom  on  tree  : 
O'er  the  earth,  and  air,  and  ocean, 
Nature  holds  her  jubilee." 

Wordsworth  thus  daintily  pictures  forth  the  harbingers  of 
spring  : — 

"  Pansies,  lilies,  kingcup?,  daisies, 
Let  them  live  upon  their  praises  ; 
Long  as  there's  a  sun  that  sets 

Primroses  will  have  their  glory — 
Long  as  there  are  violets 

They  will  have  a  place  in  story." 

The  following  lines  of  Tennyson  seem  to  glow  with  the 
beauty  and  bloom  of  spring  : 


THE   CYCLE   OF   THE   SEASONS.        215 

"  In  the  spring  a  fuller  crimson  comes  upon  the  robin's  breast, 
In  the  spring  the  wanton  lapwing  gets  himself  another  crest  ; 
In  the  spring  a  lovelier  iris  changes  on  the  burnished  dove, 
In  the  spring  a  young  man's  fancy  lightly  turns  to  thoughts  of  love." 

With  many  other  pastoral  customs  of  the  olden  time,  that 
of  the  rural  celebration  of  May-day  is  well-nigh  passed  into 
oblivion.  Bourne  tells  us,  that  in  his  time,  in  the  villages  in 
the  Xorth  of  England,  the  youth  of  both  sexes  were  wont 
to  rise  before  dawn,  and  assemble  in  some  neighboring  wood, 
accompanied  with  music,  and  there  they  gathered  branches 
from  the  trees,  and  wove  garlands  and  bouquets  of  flowers,  with 
which  they  returned  to  deck  their  homes. 

The  rustic  festival  of  the  May-pole,  and  the  ceremony  of 
crowning  the  pride  of  the  village  as  May-queen,  formed  one  of 
the  most  picturesque  of  the  good  old  pastimes  of  our  English 
ancestors  :  and  is  also  as  ancient  as  any  of  which  we  have  any 
record  ;  it  being  doubtless  identical  with  the  festival  of  the 
Romans  in  honor  of  Flora,  which  they  styled  Floralia,  and 
which  occurred  on  the  fourth  of  the  kalends  of  May.  Some 
times  the  May-pole  was  brought  to  the  village-green  in  great 
pomp,  being  drawn  by  twenty  yoke  of  oxen,  each  being  gar 
landed  with  flowers,  with  which,  as  well  as  with  branches, 
flags,  and  streamers,  the  pole  itself  was  profusely  wreathed  and 
decked. 

The  rural  festivities  of  the  May-queen  are  no  longer  seen, 
but  the  denizens  of  New  York,  for  the  special  benefit  of  the 
landlords,  have  substituted  a  custom  instead,  of  a  most  moving 
and  exciting  character  ;  we  refer  to  their  curious  passion  for 
changing  their  habitations  on  that  day.  On  this  eventful  day, 
the  entire  community  is  in  a  transition  state.  Like  a  busy 
swarm  of  ants,  people  are  hurrying  to  and  fro,  hither  and  thither, 
iu  the  most  amusing  confusion  ;  each  eagerly  in  quest  of  his 
new  abode.  This  singular  fancy  for  change  of  habitation  seems 
peculiar  to  this  locomotive  people  ;  and  so  generally  is  the  cus 
tom  adopted  by  them,  that  all  business  for  the  time  is  suffered 


216  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


to  fall  into  a  state  of  collapse.  Xo  wonder  that  scarce  a  vestige 
of  antiquity  is  permitted  to  remain  to  point  the  past  history  of 
a  city,  whose  inhabitants  cease  even  to  venerate  the  walls  of 
their  own  consecrated  homes.  The  festivals  of  this  month, 
include  among  others,  Whit  Sunday,  and  Trinity  Sunday  ;  the 
former  probably  derived  from  the  custom  in  the  Romish  church 
of  converts,  newly  baptised,  appearing  from  Easter  to  Whit 
suntide  dressed  in  white. 

Maia,  the  brightest  of  the  Pleiades,  from  whom  this  month 
derived  its  name,  is  fabled  to  have  been  the  daughter  of  Atlas. 

The  Anglo-Saxons  called  this  month  tremelki,  because  then 
they  began  to  milk  their  kine  three  times  a  day. 

The  zodiacal  sign  of  May  is  Gemini  fthe  twins),  named 
Castor  and  Pollux,  who  are  fabled  to  have  appeared  to  sailors 
in  storms  with  lambent  fires  on  their  heads,  as  propitious  to 
the  mariner. 

May  is  synonymous  with  sunny  weather  ;  the  state  of  the 
weather,  by  the  way,  is  an  ever-fruitful  theme  of  discourse 
with  all  sorts  of  people.  It  seems  ever  uppermost  in  our 
thoughts,  or  upon  the  tip  of  the  tongue. 

It  is  •worthy  of  note  when  two  friends  meet  together 
The  first  topic  they  start  is  the  state  of  the  weather — 
It  is  always  the  same,  both  with  young  and  with  old, 
'Tis  either  too  hot,  or  else  'tis  too  cold, 
'Tis  either  too  wet,  or  else  'tis  too  dry. 
The  glass  is  too  low,  or  else  'tis  too  high  ; 
But  if  all  had  their  wishes  once  jumbled  together, 
No  mortal  on  earth  could  exist  in  such  weather. 

We  now  approach  the  rosy,  summer  month  of  JCXE.  It 
was  by  the  Romans  called  Junius,  in  honor  of  the  youth 
who  served  Regulus  in  the  war  ;  or  it  was  more  probably 
derived  from  Juno,  the  goddess  of  heaven. 

The  Saxons  gave  it  the  name  of  weyd-monath,  from  the 
German  weiden,  to  pasture. 


THE   CYCLE   OF   THE   SEASONS.         217 


This  is  the  season  for  fresh  and  fnigrant  flowers-^  -those 
gaudy  and  brilliant  gems,  nature  bedecks  herself  withal  :  the 
very  air  is  perfumed  with  their  rich  odors  :  and  in  the  words 
of  Coleridge, 

"  Many  a  hidden  brook,  in  this  leafy  month  of  June, 

To  the  sleeping  woods,  all  night  singeth  a  quiet  tune ." 

Towards  the  close  of  the  month,  that  pleasant  rural  occupa 
tion,  hay-making,  commences :  the  country  now  begins  to 
assume  a  most  beautiful  aspect — here  the  corn  is  already  begin 
ning  to  peep  out,  here  the  meadows  are  mown  and  cleared, 
and  here  again  the  grass  still  waves  in  all  the  rich  luxuriance 
of  wild  flowers,  awaiting  the  reapers. 

Of  the  red-letter-days  of  June,  one  of  the  most  notable  is  the 
longest  of  the  year,  the  21st.,  on  which  occurs  the  summer 
solstice. 

We  have  now  completed  just  half  the  circuit  of  the  calendar; 
and  it  is  high  noon  of  the  year  ;  suppose  we  indulge  in  a  brief 
homily  upon  Time — by  way  of  tempering  our  trifling,  and  in 
order  to  save  our  sobriety  from  shipwreck.  How  important 
is  it  that  we  duly  value  the  passing  moment — all  we  can  boast 
of  time  in  possession — yet  are  we  not  ever  prone  rather  to 
indulge  vain  regrets  for  the  past,  or  eager  anticipations  for  the 
future  ?  "  Spare  minutes  are  the  gold-dust  of  time,"  says  a 
quaint  author  ;  •'  of  all  portions  of  our  life  they  are  the  most 
to  be  guarded  and  watched,  for  they  are  the  gaps  through 
which  idleness  tempts  us  astray."  An  impartial  review  of  the 
past  is  fraught  with  instruction  to  the  future  : 

'Tis  greatly  wise  to  talk  with  our  past  hours, 
And  ask  them  what  report  they  bore  to  heaven. 

Midsummer,  also,  naturally  reminds  us  of  the  meridian  of 
life — a  point  in  our  history,  when  wre  may  with  advantage  take 
a  retrospective  as  well  as  a  prospective  survey  ;  when  the 

10 


218  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


premonitions  of  an   occasional  gray  hair,  or  wrinkle   on  the 
brow,  are  too  decisive  to  be  mistaken. 

The  more  we  live,  more  brief  appear, 

Our  life's  succeeding  stages  : 
A  day  to  childhood  seems  a  year, 

And  years,  like  passing  ages. 

The  gladsome  current  of  our  youth, 

Ere  passion  yet  disorders, 
Steals,  lingering,  like  a  river  smooth. 

Along  its  grassy  borders. 

But  as  the  care-worn  cheek  grows  wan, 

And  sorrow's  shafts  fly  thicker, 
Ye  stars,  that  measure  life  to  man  ! 

Why  seem  your  courses  quicker? 

When  joys  have  lost  their  blootn  and  breath, 

And  life  itself  is  vapid  ; 
Why,  as  we  reach  the  falls  of  Death, 

Feel  we  the  tide  more  rapid  ? 

It  may  be  strange — yet  who  would  change 

Time's  course  to  slower  speeding  ? 
When  one  by  one  our  friends  are  gone, 

And  left  our  bosoms  bleeding. 

Heaven  gives  our  years  of  fading  strength 

Indemnifying  fleetness ; 
And  those  of  youth,  a  seeming  length, 

Proportioned  to  their  sweetness.* 

We  now  come  to  the  sultry  summer  month  of  JULY — when 
Sol  is  in  the  ascendant,  and  in  his  glowing  ardor  to  entertain 
his  guests,  gives  to  all  creation  such  an  ardent  greeting. 
Punch's  humorous  apostrophe  is  too  good  to  be  omitted  in  this 
place  :  it  runs  in  this  wise  : 

*  Campbell 


THE  CYCLE   OF  THE   SEASONS.        219 


"  Well  done,  tliou  glorious  orb  !  well  done,  indeed, 
Thou  sun  ;  for  nature  now  is  one  great  feast, 
Roasted,  and  boiled,  and  fried,  and  baked,  by  thee. 
Thy  fire  hath  boikd  the  fishes  in  the  streams  ; 
Roasted  the  living  mutton  on  the  Downs  ; 
Fried  all  the  parsley  on  its  very  bed  ; 
And  baking  the  potatoes  under  ground, 
Hath  cooked  them  growing  ;  so  that  men  may  dig 
'Tatersall  hot!'" 

This  month  is  distinguished  by  its  introducing  the  celebrated 
"  Vug-days."  That  every  dog  has  his  day,  is  an  admitted  axiom, 
but  why  the  canine  fraternity  at  large  should  thus  monopolize 
this  particular  part  of  the  calendar,  we  cannot  divine  :  and  as 
we  prefer  not  to  dogmatize,  we  respectfully  refer  the  reader 
to  an  old  authority,  and  a  witty  dog  into  the  bargain — Dog 
berry.  Whether  it  is  that  they  expect  to  run  mad  with  impunity 
during  this  term,  to  the  terror  of  all  mayors  and  municipalities; 
or  whether  it  is  because  all  the  rest  of  the  year  they  get  kicked 
out  of  sight,  that  this  brief  interval  is  secured  for  their  jubilee, 
we  are  alike  unable  to  determine  ;  and  must,  therefore,  leave 
the  learned  in  such  matters  to  decide,  and  shall  be  content  to 
con-cur  in  their  decision. 

Tom  Hood  has  something  to  add  on  the  subject,  which  we 
subjoin  : 

"  Most  doggedly  I  do  maintain, 
Aud  hold  the  dogma  true — 
That  four-legged  dogs  although  we  see 

We've  some  that  walk  on  two, 
Among  them  there  are  clever  dogs — 

A  few  you'd  reckon  mad. 
While  some  are  very  jolly  dogs 

And  others  very  sad. 
I've  heard  of  physic  thrown  to  dogs, 

And  very  much  incline, 
To  think  it  true,  for  we've  a  pack 
Who  only  bark  and  w(h)ine." 

The  "  dog-days,"  or  Dies  Caniculares,  according  to  Bailey's 


220  SALAD   FOR  THE   SOCIAL. 


Dictionary,  "are  commonly  from  the  24th  of  July  to  the  28th 
of  August,  which  are  very  hot — the  dog-star  increasing-  ihe 
heat — and  vulgarly  reckoned  unwholesome."  The  dog-days, 
says  Chambers,  precede  and  follow  the  heliacal  rising  of  the 
star  Sirius,  which,  in  Pliny's  time,  was  on  the  18th  of  July. 

Even  in  modern  as  well  as  ancient  times,  this  "  heated 
term"  has  been  connected  with  the  appearance  of  this  star  in 
the  morning  ;  though  the  extreme  heat  is  palpably  the  effect 
of  the  continued  high  position  of  the  sun.  Now  the  fact  is 
known,  that  the  dog-star  cannot  increase  the  heat,  because,  by 
the  precession  of  the  equinoxes,  its  heliacal  rising  will,  in  a 
thousand  years,  take  place  in  the  depth  of  winter. 

At  Argos,  a  festival  was  expressly  instituted  for  the  killing 
of  dogs  at  this  season,  and  the  institution  seems  to  be  preserved 
at  the  present  time  in  other  cities. 

The  first  of  the  summer  Signs  was  called  Cancer,  or  the 
crab,  because,  when  the  sun  entered  this  constellation,  it  was 
observed  to  have  attained  its  greatest  northern  distance  from 
the  equator,  and  then  began  to  assume  a  retrograde  motion, 
which  the  ancients  represented  under  the  figure  of  a  crab,  on 
account  of  its  creeping  or  moving  backward. 

While  Hercules  was  engaged  in  destroying  the  famous 
Lernaean  monster,  according  to  mythologists,  Juno  sent  a  sea- 
crab  to  bite  the  hero's  feet.  This  new  enemy  was  soon  dis 
patched,  but  Juno,  to  reward  its  services,  placed  it  among  the 
stars. 

Proudly,  lovely  and  serenely, 

Power  and  passion  in  her  eye, 
With  an  aspect  calm  and  queenly, 
Comes  the  summer-nymph,  July, 
Crowned  with  azure,  clothed  with  splendor, 

Gorgeous  as  an  Eastern  bride, 
While  the  glowing  hours  attend  her 
O'er  the  languid  landscape  wide.* 

JULY  ('from  the  Latin  name  Julius,)  was  conferred  upon  this 

*  J.  C.  Prince. 


THE   CYCLE  OF  THE   SEASONS.        221 


month,  in  honor  of  Julius  Caesar.  The  Saxons  named  it  hen- 
wjiialh  (foliage  mouth).  The  zodiacal  sign  is  Sirius,  which  is 
apparently  the  largest,  the  most  refulgent,  and  one  of  the 
nearest  objects  in  the  sidereal  heavens,  is  situated  in  the  con 
stellation  Canis  Major,  21  deg.  40  min  southeast  of  the  belt 
of  Onon.  Its  distance  is  computed  at  not  less  than  19  billions 
of  miles  from  the  Earth,  and  if  it  occupied  the  place  of  our 
sun,  it  would  appear  37  times  larger,  and  would  give  nearly 
14  times  as  much  light? 

On  the  fifteenth  of  July  we  have  St.  Swithin's  day — meraor. 
able  from  the  tradition  that,  if  there  should  be  rain  on  that  day, 
it  would  continue  wet  weather  for  forty  days  afterwards.  This 
conceit  has  its  origin  in  one  of  the  fables  of  the  Latin  Church, 
which  reads  as  follows,  "  St.  Swithin,  bishop  of  Winchester, 
before  his  demise,  which  occurred  in  the  year  868,  desired  that 
he  might  be  buried  in  the  open  church-yard  and  not  in  the  chan 
cel  of  the  minster,  as  was  usual  with  other  bishops ;  and  his 
request  was  complied  with  ;  but  the  monks  on  his  being  can 
onized,  considering  it  disgraceful  for  the  saint  to  lie  in  a  public 
cemetery,  resolved  to  remove  his  body  into  the  choir,  which  was 
to  have  been  done  with  solemn  procession  on  the  15th  of  July — 
it  rained,  however,  so  violently  for  forty  days  together  at  this 
season,  that  the  design  was  abandoned." 

The  "  glorious  Fourth  "  is  the  national  birth-day  of  Freedom 
in  the  United  States,  when  the  "  sovereign  people  "  indulge  in 
the  exercise  of  the  "  largest  liberty,"  and  by  way  of  canonizing 
the  goddess,  disturb  the  quiet  with  incessant  discharges  of  guns, 
firing  of  pistols,  and  rushing  of  rockets 

The  golden  AUGUST  now  bursts  upon  us — that  gorgeous 
month,  most  rife  with  all  sorts  of  delicious  fruits,  as  well  as  of 
golden  crops  of  wavy  corn,  and  sheaves  of  garnered  grain. 

This  month  is  introduced  by  Lammas-day — one  of  the  great 
thanksgiving  festivals  of  former  times  :  and  it  closes  under 
the  saintly  patronage  of  Jerome.  Harvest-home,  the  rustic 
jubilee  of  rural  life,  also  belongs  to  this  glorious  month. 


222  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


AUGUST  was  called  Sextilis  by  the  Romans,  from  its  being 
the  sixth  month  in  their  calendar,  until  the  Senate  complimented 
Augustus  by  naming  it  after  him,  because  he  had  then  first 
entered  upon  his  consulship,  having  subdued  Egypt  to  the 
Roman  dominion  ! 

The  Saxons  called  this  month  arn-monath,  more  rightly  barn- 
monath,  indicating  the  filling  of  barns  with  corn. 

The  zodiacal  sign  of  the  mouth — that  of  Tirgo — the  Virgin, 
is  supposed  to  be  the  Asbraea,  the  Goddess  of  Justice,  who. 
according  to  mythological  lore,  lived  upon  the  earth  during  the 
Golden  Age  ;  but  being  offended  at  the  wickedness  of  mankind 
during  the  Brazen  and  Iron  Ages,  she  returned  to  heaven  among 
the  stars,  and  has  since  been  known  under  the  name  of  Virgo. 

The  sign  Virgo  was  represented  with  ears  of  corn  in  her 
hands,  signifying  the  harvest.  Spenser  thus  refers  to  it 

being  rich  arrayed. 


In  garment  all  of  gold  down  to  the  ground, 
Yet  rode  he  not,  but  led  a  lovely  mayd, 
Forth  by  the  lily  hand,  the  which  wascrown'd 
With  eares  of  corne,  and  full  her  hand  was  found. 

The  24th  of  the  month  is  celebrated  as  St.  Bartholomew's 
Day,  a  holiday  of  the  Church  of  England.  Bartholomew  was 
an  apostle,  but  there  is  no  scriptural  account  of  his  labors  or 
death.  The  legend  of  the  Romish  Church  represents  him  as 
preaching  in  the  Indies,  and  concluding  his  life  by  being  flayed 
alive  by  order  of  a  brother  of  the  king  of  Armenia  In  mem 
ory  of  his  death,  it  was  customary  at  the  monastic  institutions, 
in  the  middle  ages,  to  distribute  small  knives  among  the  people. 
The  day  has  a  horrible  celebrity  in  connection  with  the  massa 
cre  of  the  Protestants  at  Paris,  in  1572,  by  that  wretched 
woman,  Catherine  De  Medicis. 

Crowned  with  the  sickle  and  the  wbeaten  fheaf, 
While  Autumn  nodding  o'er  the  yellow  plain 
Comes  jovial  on. 


THE   CYCLE   OF   THE   SEASONS.         223 


The  radiant  splendor  of  the  sunny  months,  now  gives  place 
to  the  sober  tints  of  russet  autumn. 

A  pastoral  writer  observes, — Autumn,  yet  with  her  hand 
grasped  in  the  feeble  clasp  of  Summer,  as  if  the  latter  were  loth 
to  depart,  still  retains  much  green  hanging  about  the 
woods,  and  much  blue  and  sunshine  about  the  sky  and 
earth.  But  the  leaves  are  rustling  in  the  forest  paths,  the 
harvest-fields  are  silent,  and  the  heavy  fruit  that  bows  down 
the  branches,  proclaims  that  the  labor  of  Summer  is  ended — 
that  her  yellow-robed  sister  has  come  to  gather  in  and  garner 
the  rich  treasures  she  has  left  behind. 

Hope,  who  looked  with  a  cheerful  countenance  upon  the 
landscape  of  Spring,  has  departed.  Instead  of  watching  each 
green  and  flowery  object,  day  by  day,  as  it  budded  and 
blossomed,  we  now  see  only  the  traces  of  slow  and  sure  decay, 
the  green  fading,  bit  by  bit,  until  the  leaves  become  like  the 
skeleton  wings  of  an  insect,  the  wind  blowing  through  those 
places  which  were  before  marked  with  azure,  and  crimson,  and 
gold.  The  sun  himself  seems  growing  older  ;  he  rises  later 
from  his  bed  in  the  morning,  and  returns  to  rest  earlier  in  the 
evening,  and  seems  not  to  have  that  strength  which  he  pos 
sessed  when  he  rose  in  the  youthful  vigor  of  Spring,  and  the 
bright  and  cheerful  manhood  of  Summer  ;  for  his  golden  eyes 
seem  clouded,  and  his  breath  thick  and  heavy,  as  he  strug 
gles  through  the  surrounding  fog.  All  these  are  marks  of  the 
seasons,  telling  us  that  the  year  is  growing  gray,  and  slowly 
tottering  towards  the  darkness  and  grave-like  silence  of  Winter. 

"  A  moral  character  is  attached  to  autumnal  scenes — the 
leaves  falling  like  our  years,  the  flowers  fading  like  our  hours, 
the  clouds  fleeting  like  our  illusions,  the  light  diminishing  like 
our  intelligence,  the  sun  growing  colder  like  our  affections,  the 
rivers  becoming  frozen  like  our  lives — all  bear  secret  relations 
to  our  destinies."  * 

The  name  SEPTEMBER  being  derived  from  Septcm,  seven,  indi- 

*  Chateaubriand. 


224  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


cates  its  order  in  the  Roman  Calendar,  prior  to  the  Julian 
reform.  The  zodiacal  sign  is  the  constellation  of  Libra,  or  the 
Balance  ;  because  when  the  sun  entered  this  asterism  it  seemed 
to  hold  the  days  and  nights  in  equilibrio,  giving  the  same 
proportion  of  light  as  darkness  to  the  inhabitants  of  all  parts 
of  the  globe.  It  was  called  gerst-monath  by  the  Saxons  ;  gerst 
signifying  barley,  which  ripens  in  this  month. 

The  transition  from  autumnal  richness  to  the  desolation  of 
winter  is  gradual,  almost  imperceptible,  like  our  own  advancing 
years.  jVliller  the  poet  writes  about  it. 

Forest  scenery  never  looks  so  beautiful  as  in  Autumn.  It 
is  then  that  nature  seems  to  have  exhausted  all  the  fantastic 
colors  of  her  palette,  and  to  have  scattered  her  richest  red, 
brown,  yellow,  and  purple,  upon  the  foliage.  Every  gust  of 
wind  that  now  blows,  brings  down  thousands  of  golden-colored 
acorns,  that  come  pattering  like  little  feet  among  the  fallen 
leaves,  leaving  empty  their  smooth,  round,  hollow  cups,  from 
which  the  old  poets  in  their  fables  framed  the  drinking  vessels 
of  the  fairies. 

Hood's  ode  to  Autumn  is  a  gem — we  cite  a  passage  from 
it  :— 

Where  are  the  blossoms  of  summer  ? — In  the  West, 
Blushing  their  last  to  the  last  sunny  hours, 
Where  the  mild  Eve  by  sudden  Night  is  prest 
Like  tearful  Proserpine,  snatched  from  her  flowers, 

To  a  most  gloomy  breast. 

Where  is  the  pride  of  Summer — the  greeu  prime — 
The  many,  many  leaves  of  all  twinkling  ? — Three 
On  the  mossed  Elm  :  three  on  the  naked  lime 
Trembling — and  one  upon  the  old  oak  tree ! 

Where  is  the  Dryad's  immortality? — 
Gone  into  mournful  cypress  and  dark  yew, 
Or  wearing  the  long  gloomy  winter  through 
lu  the  smooth  holly's  green  eternity. 

We  add  another  apostrophe  in  prose,  from  ail  unknown 
pen  : 


THE   CYCLE   OF   THE   SEASONS.        225 


"Like  some  richly  illuminated  manuscript  of  cloistered  art, 
the  wonder  book  of  Xature  is  spreading  out  its  autumn  pages 
in  all  their  wonted  brilliancy  of  mingled  coloring;  every 
mountain  is  a  swelling  mound' of  jewelled  lustre,  and  every  vale 
of  woodland  a  blending  of  rich  rainbow  tints,  over  which  a 
bright  sun-warmed  haze  is  spread,  just  as  the  old  missal  painters 
used  to  canopy  the  heads  of  saints  and  apostles  with  a  halo  of 
golden  light.  The  hoar-frost  covers  the  meadows  in  the  early 
morning,  and  lies  in  crisp,  sparkling  wreathes  upon  the  fences 
and  barn-roofs,  while  overhead,  a  sky  of  the  deepest  blue  is 
beginning  to  soften  under  the  sunshine.  Not  a  leaf  quivers, 
and  the  pale  cottage  smoke  curls  up  in  a  straight,  unwavering 
column  through  the  frosty  air,  while  cloudlets  of  mist  rest 
lingeringly  on  the  lake,  or  creep  lazily  up  the  hill-sides. 

"  There  is  exhilaration  in  the  air,  and  a  new  life  in  the  wind 
that  comes  careering  from  the  northwest,  bearing  frost  on  its 
wings,  and  brightness  to  the  autumn  woods.  The  farmer  is 
early  afield,  with  his  cheery  call,  as  he  guides  his  oxen  to  the 
late  harvesting.  The  maize  fields  display  their  tent-like  rows, 
with  garniture  of  yellow  pumpkins  scattered  between  ;  and  the 
buckwheat  patches,  no  longer  yielding  their  "  honied  fragrance," 
are  falling  before  the  quick-swinging  cradle,  and  lie  like  red 
spots  upon  the  landscape.  The  orchards  are  brimming  with  rosy 
fruit,  and  the  chestnut  burs  are  showering  down  their  treasures 
in  the  woods.  Plenty  seems  to  reign,  and  the  fullness  of  the 
year  has  put  its  stamp  of  gladness  upon  all." 

"  A  mellow  richness  on  the  clustered  trees ; 
And.  from  a  beaker  full  of  richest  dyes, 
Pouring  new  glory  on  the  autumn  woods, 
And  dipping  in  warm  light  the  pillared  clouds  ; 
Morn,  on  the  mountain,  like  a  summer  bird, 
Lifts  up  her  purple  wing  ;  and  in  the  vales 
The  gentle  wind,  a  sweet  and  passionate  rover, 
Kisses  the  blushing  leaves  and  stirs  up  life 
Within  the  solemn  woods  of  ash  deep  crimsoned, 
10* 


226  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


And  silver  beech,  the  maple  yellow  leaved — 
Where  Autumn,  like  a  faint  old  man,  Kits  down 
By  the  wayside  aweary.     Through  the  trees 
The  golden  robin  moves  ;  the  purple  finch, 
That  on  wild  cherry  and  red  cedar  feeds, 
A  winter  bird,  comes  with  its  plaintive  whistle 
And  pecks  by  the  wych-bazel  ;  while  aloft 
From  cotr.age  roofs  the  warbling  bluebird  sings/'* 

OCTOBER  is  from  the  Latin  octo,  eight  ;  with  the  Saxon  it 
was  styled  winterfyllith — winter-beginning. 

The  principal  Saints'  days  of  this  month  are  those  of  St. 
Dennis — who,  according  to  the  legend,  walked  two  miles  with 
his  head  in  his  hand,  after  it  had  been  cut  off — and  of  St. Cris 
pin,  the  patron  of  the  shoe-making  fraternity. 

One  of  the  Comic  Almanacs,  attempts  the  facetious  on  this 
month,  in  the  following  playful  stanzas  : — 

The  sum  of  Summer  is  cast  at  last, 

And  carried  to  Wintry  season, 
And  the  frightened  leaves  are  leaving  us  fast, 

If  they  stayed  it  would  be  high  trees-on. 
The  sheep  exposed  to  the  rain  and  drift, 

Are  left  to  all  sorts  of  wethers, 
And  the  ragged  young  birds  must  make  a  shift 

Until  they  can  get  new  feathers. 

In  noting  the  chronicles  of  Time,  we  find — 

"  The  pale,  descending  year,  yet  pleasing  still," 

for  although  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf  now  greets  us,  where,  a 
short  time  since,  all  was  verdant,  and  nature  has  doffed  her  gay 
attire,  yet  is  there  great  beauty  even  in  the  blanched  and 
frozen  landscape,  which  dull  spirits  deem  all  dreary,  desolate, 
and  dead. 

*  LongfeU  ow. 


THE   CYCLE   OF   THE   SEASON  S.        227 


"  Come,  bleak  NOVEMBER,  in  thy  wildness  come  : 
Thy  mornings  clothed  in  rime,  thy  evenings  chill ; 

E'en  these  have  power  to  tempt  me  from  my  home, 
E'en  these  have  beauty  to  delight  me  still. 

Though  Nature  lingers  in  her  mourning  weeds, 

And  waila  the  dying  year  in  gusty  blast, 
Still  added  beauty  to  the  last  proceeds, 

And  wildness  triumphs  when  her  bloom  is  past." 

Nor  is  Shelley's  Dirge  less  touchingly  beautiful  : 

The  warm  sun  is  failing,  the  bleak  wind  is  wailing. 
The  bare  boughs  are  sighing,  the  pale  flowers  are  dying, 

And  the  year 

On  the  earth,  her  death-bed,  in  a  shroud  of  leaves  dead, 
Is  lying. 

Come  months,  come  away, 

From  November  to  May, 

In  your  saddest  array  ; 

Follow  the  bier 

Of  the  dead,  cold  year, 
And  like  dim  chadows  watch  by  her  sepulchre. 

The  chill  rain  is  falling,  the  nipt  worm  is  crawling, 
The  rivers  are  swelling,  the  thunder  is  knelling 

For  the  year  ; 

The  blythe  swallows  are  flown,  and  the  lizards  each  gone 
To  his  dwelling. 

Come  months,  come  away. 

Put  on  white,  black  and  grey, 

Let  your  light  sisters  play — 

Ye  follow  the  bier 

Of  the  dead  cold  year. 
And  make  her  grave  green  with  tear  on  tear. 

The  following  beautiful  passage,  by  Washington  Irving, 
might  almost  make  a  doleful  day  cheerful  : 

"  And  here  let  me  say  a  word  in  favor  of  those  vicissitudes 
of  our  climate  which  are  too  often  made  the  subjects  of  exclu 
sive  repining.  If  they  annoy  us  occasionally  by  changes  from 


228  SALAD   FOR   THE   SOCIAL. 


hot  to  cold,  from  wet  to  dry,  they  give  us  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  climates  in  the  world.  They  give  us  the  brilliant 
sunshine  of  the  south  of  Europe,  with  the  fresh  verdure  of  the 
north.  They  float  our  summer  sky  with  clouds  of  gorgeous  tints 
of  fleecy  whiteness,  and  send  down  cooling  showers  to  refresh  the 
panting  earth  and  keep  it  green.  Our  seasons  are  all  poetical, 
the  phenomena  of  our  heavens  are  full  of  sublimity  and  beauty. 
Winter  with  us  has  none  of  its  proverbial  gloom.  It  may 
have  its  howling  v.  ,nds,  and  whirling  snow-storms  ;  but  it  has 
also  its  long  intervals  of  cloudless  sunshine,  when  the  snow-clad 
earth  gives  redoubled  brightness  to  the  day  ;  when  at  night 
the  stars  beam  with  iutensest  lustre,  or  the  moon  floods  the 
whole  landscape  with  her  most  limpid  radiance  ;  and  then  the 
joyous  outbreak  of  spring,  bursting  at  once  into  leaf  and 
blossom,  redundant  with  vegetation,  and  vociferous  with  life  ! — 
and  the  splendors  of  our  summer — its  morning  voluptuousness 
and  evening  glory — its  airy  palaces  of  the  sun-gilt  clouds  piled 
up  in  a  deep  azure  sky  ;  and  its  gusts  of  tempest  of  almost 
tropical  grandeur,  when  the  forked  lightning  and  the  bellowing 
thunder  volley  from  the  battlements  of  heaven,  and  shake  the 
sultry  atmosphere — and  the  sublime  melancholy  of  our  autumn, 
magnificent  in  its  decay,  withering  down  the  pomp  and  pride 
of  a  woodland  country,  yet  reflecting  back  from  its  yellow 
forests  the  golden  serenity  of  the  sky,  surely  we  may  see  in  our 
climate  '  the  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firma 
ment  showeth  forth  his  handiwork  ;  day  unto  day  uttereth 
speech  ;  and  night  unto  night  showeth  knowledge.' " 

NOVEMBER  is  the  next  month  we  reach  :  its  name  being 
derived  from  novem — nine. 

The  last  of  the  autumnal  signs  was  Sagitarius  •  because 
•when  the  sun  passed  it,  the  trees  were  nearly  divested  of  their 
foliage,  which  the  ancients  considered  as  indicative  of  the 
season  for  hunting,  and  hence  they  represented  the  constellation 
under  the  figure  of  an  archer,  with  bow  and  arrows.  The 
Saxons  named  it  wint-monatk  (wind  month).  All-Souls'  day, 


THE   CYCLE   OF   THE   SEASONS.        229 


occurs  on  the  second  of  this  month — consecrated  to  the 
memory  of  those  saintly  personages  of  yore,  to  the  invocation 
of  whom,  the  church  had  not  assigned  any  particular  date. 
The  closing  day  of  November  is  St.  Andrew's  :  St.  Cecilia 
has  also  conferred  a  ghostly  honor  on  this  mouth,  as  well  as 
upon  music. 

We  close  our  notice  of  this  notable  month  with  a  brief  but 
elegant  passage  from  the  pen  of  that  sunny  and  healthful 
writer,  Leigh  Hunt.  "  November,"  he  says,  "  with  its  loss  of 
verdure,  its  frequent  rains,  the  fall  of  the  leaf,  and  the  visible 
approach  of  winter,  is  undoubtedly  a  gloomy  month  to  the 
gloomy,  but  to  others  it  brings  but  pensiveness — a  feeling  very 
far  from  being  destitute  of  pleasure  ;  and  if  the  healthiest  and 
most  imaginative  of  us  may  feel  their  spirits  pulled  down  by 
reflections  connected  with  earth, — its  mortalities  and  its  mis 
takes,  we  shall  but  strengthen  ourselves  the  more  to  make 
strong  and  sweet  music  with  the  changeful  but  harmonious 
movements  of  nature." 

The  Comic  Almanac  intimates  that  among  the  comforts  of 
winter  you  will  find  : — 

Chilblains  sore  on  all  your  toes, 
Icicles  hung  from  your  nose, 
Rheumatis'  in  all  your  limbs, 
Noddle  full  of  aches  and  whims, 
Chaps  upon  your  hands  and  lips, 
And  lumbago  in  your  hips, 
To  your  bed  you  shiv'ring  creep, 
There  to  freeze,  but  not  to  sleep, 
For  the  sheets  that  look  so  nice, 
Are  to  you  two  sheets  of  ice. 

This  is  considered  an  ominious  time  for  suicides  in  London 
and  Paris — victims  to  this  cowardly  vice  being  generally  more 
numerous  in  this  month  than  any  other.  It  is  the  pioneer  of 
winter ;  it  is  synonymous  with  a  negation  to  all  the  pleasurable 
aspects  of  the  preceding  three  months.  Hood  indicates  its 


230  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


characteristics  in  some  ingenious  lines — each  of  which  com 
mences  with  lisping  the  first  syllable,  and  after  a  protracted 
effort  spells  it  outright. 

"  No  Sun — no  Moon ! 

No  morn — no  noon — 
No  dawn — no  dusk — no  proper  time  of  day — 

No  sky — no  earthly  view — 

No  distance  looking  blue — 
No  roads — no  streets — no  'tother  side  the  way  ; 

No  end  to  any  row ; 

No  indication  where  the  crescents  go  ; 

No  tops  to  any  steeple  ; 
No  recognition  of  familiar  people  ; 

No  courtesies  for  shewing  'em  ; 

No  knowing  'em ; 

No  travellers  at  all  ;  no  locomotion  ; 
No  inkling  of  the  way — no  motion  ; 

'No  go'  by  land  or  ocean  ; 

No  mud  ;  no  post ; 

No  news  from  any  foreign  coast ; 
No  park  ;  no  ring  ;  no  afternoon  gentility  ; 

No  company  ;  no  nobility  ; 
No  warmth  ;  no  cheerfulness  ;  no  healthful  ease  ; 

No  comfortable  feel  in  any  member  ; 
No  shade  ;  no  shine  ;  no  butterflies  ;  no  bees  5 
No  fruits  ;  no  flowers  ;  no  leaves  ;  no  birds  ; 

NO-VEMBER!" 

We  now  hail  the  approach  of  dark  DECEMBER, 
Last  of  the  months — severest  of  them  all. 

The  first  of  the  winter  signs  was  called  Capricornus,  from  the 
goat,  which  delights  in  climbing  up  high,  craggy  places,  and 
hence  is  an  emblem  of  the  winter  solstice.  This  constellation  is 
sometimes  called  the  "southern  gate  of  the  sun,"  for  when  he 
enters  this  sign,  Sol  begins  to  ascend  higher  in  the  zodiac.  This 
month  being  formerly  reckoned  the  tenth,  was  called  December, 


THE   CYCLE   OF  THE   SEASONS.        231 


from  Decem — ten.  The  Saxons  named  it  Winter-monath 
(winter-month). 

We  have  watched  the  progress  of  the  year,  from  its  birth  to  its 
decline — the  dreary  season  of  its  old  age — the  edge  of  its  grave. 
We  have  watched  the  procession  of  the  sister  months,  and  in 
their  course,  the  successive  seasons — the  bright,  brilliant,  and 
evanescent  glories  of  the  joyous,  jubilant  spring,  the  gorgeous 
sunsets  of  the  sultry  summer,  the  rich  exuberance  of  fruit-bearing 
autumn  ;  and  now  we  are  fairly  in  companionship  with  the  frigid 
winter,  with  its  brief  days  and  its  prolonged  nights.  We  are 
reminded  here  of  a  very  literal  reason  a  simple-hearted  youth  once 
rendered,  in  reply  to  the  inquiry  as  to  the  cause  of  the  length 
of  days  in  summer,  and  their  brevity  in  winter  :  said  he,  "  It  is 
the  nature  of  heat  to  expand,  and  of  cold  to  contract." 

Punch  thus  refers  to  the  frozen  desolation  of  winter : 

There  is  a  stoppage  in  the  currency 

Of  all  the  streams,  which  cannot  liquidate 

Their  tribute  to  the  sea.     The  frozen  soil, 

Hard  up,  no  more  repays  the  husbandman. 

Each  object,  crusted  o'er  with  rime  and  snow — 

Seems  white-washed.     Of  ;!n  ir  furniture  the  trees 

Are  stripped;  and  everywhere  distringas  reign. 

On  one  vast  picture  of  insolvency 

We  gaze  around;  and  did  we  not  repose 

In  mother  earth's  resources  confidence, 

Should  see  no  prospect  of  a  dividend 

Of  sixpence  in  the  pound  ! 

November  and  December  are  called  the  embers  of  the  dying 
year. 

The  famous  festival  of  St.  Nicholas — "the  boy-bishop,"  and 
the  tutelar  saint  of  childhood — is  celebrated  on  the  sixth. 
Dreary,  indeed,  would  this  ice-clad  month  be,  were  it  not  for  the 
glowing  associations  of  its  merry  Christmas,  with  its  holly  and 
mistletoe,  and  the  gladsome  gatherings  and  rejoicings  of  social 


232  SALAD   FOR  THE   SOCIAL. 


life.  What  bright  visions  of  joyous  faces,  well-spread  tables, 
and  happy  firesides,  does  it  kindle  up  in  the  memory  ;  and 
with  what  glowing  and  grateful  contrast  does  the  dreary  deso 
lation  without  invest  the  radiant  and  jubilant  scenes  of  the 
domestic  hearth.  The  hearty  and  generous  hospitality  which 
characterizes  Christmas  celebrations — with  the  old,  orthodox 
accessories  of  that  delicious  conglomerate  of  all  good  tilings 
— plum-pudding,  and  its  accompaniment,  the  glorious  sirloin — 
are  enough  to  tempt  the  veriest  anchorite  to  participate  in  the 
epicurean  delights  ;  for  surely  the  palate  that  could  not  appre 
ciate,  nay,  luxuriate  over  such  dainty  and  delectable  dishes,  must 
have  become  sadly  perverted  and  depraved. 

This  month  at  last  Time's  annual  circle  fills, 
But  empties  pockets  with  its  Christmas  bills : 
The  prickly  holly  every  place  adorns, 
Showing  that  Christmas  pleasures  have  their  thorns. 

The  term  Christmas  is  derived  from  the  Latin  Church — it  is 
properly  Christi  Massa  (the  Mass  of  Christ). 

In  former  times,  the  celebration  of  Christmas  began  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  previous  day — Christmas  Eve.  The  house 
was  first  decked  with  holly,  ivy,  and  other  evergreens.  Candles 
of  an  uncommon  size  were  then  lighted  under  the  name  of  Christ 
mas  candles ;  an  enormous  log,  called  the  Yule  log,  or  Christ 
mas  block,  was  laid  upon  the  fire,  while  the  people  sat  round, 
regaling  themselves  with  beer.  In  the  course  of  the  night  small 
parties  went  about  from  house  to  house,  singing  what  were 
called  Christmas  Carols — simple,  popular  ditties,  full  of  joyful 
allusions  to  the  Redeemer.  A  mass  was  commenced  in  the 
churches  at  midnight,  a  custom  still  kept  np  in  the  Catholic 
countries. 

These  carols  were  more  generally  sung  in  the  morning  of 
Christmas  day.  A  contributor  to  the  "  Gentleman's  Maga 
zine"  in  1811,  describing  the  manner  in  which  Christmas  was 


THE   CYCLE   OF  THE   SEASONS.        233 


spent  in  Yorkshire,  says: — "About  six  o'clock  on  Christmas 
day,  I  was  awakened  by  a  sweet  singing  under  my  window  ; 
surprised  at  a  visit  so  early  and  unexpected,  I  arose,  and 
looking  out  of  the  window,  I  beheld  six  young  women  and 
four  men  welcoming  with  sweet  music  the  blessed  morn."  It 
may  scarcely  be  imagined  how  delightfully  at  such  a  moment 
upon  the  half-slumbering  ear  such  strains  as  the  following 
would  fall : 

God  rest  you,  merry  gentlemen, 

Let  nothing  you  dismay, 
For  Jesus  Christ  our  Saviour 

Was  born  upon  this  day, 
To  save  us  all  from  Satan's  power, 
When  we  were  gone  astray. 
Ob,  tidings  of  comfort  and  joy, 
For  Jesus  Christ  our  Saviour 
Was  born  on  Christmas  Day. 

Christmas  carols  are  among  the  oldest  of  English  songs. 
Sir  WALTER  SCOTT  gives  us  the  following  picture  of  an  old  time 
Christmas : 

And  well  our  Christian  sires  of  old 

Loved,  when  the  year  its  course  had  roll'd, 

And  brought  blithe  Christmas  back  again, 

With  all  its  hospitable  train. 

Domestic  and  religious  rite 

Gave  honor  to  the  holy  night; 

On  Christmas  Eve  the"  bells  were  rung, 

On  Christmas  Eve  the  mas.°  was  sung  ; 

That  only  night,  in  all  the  year, 

Saw  the  stoled  priest  the  chalice  wear, 

The  damsel  donned  her  kirtle  sheen, 

The  hall  was  dress'd  with  holly  green. 

Forth  to  the  wood  did  merry  men  go, 

To  gather  in  the  mistletoe. 

Then  open  wide  the  baron's  hall, 

To  vassal,  tenant,  serf,  and  all. 


SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 

Christmas  has  long  since  passed  into  a  synonyme  for  festi 
vity.  In  olden  times,  the  boar's  head,  ornamented  with 
rosemary,  was  carried  to  table,  upon  a  silver  platter,  with 
great  ceremony.  Holinshed  states  that,  in  the  year  1170,  on 
the  day  of  the  young  prince's  coronation  King  Henry  II. 
"  served  his  son  at  the  table  as  server,  bringing  up  the  boar's 
head  with  trumpets  before  it,  according  to  the  manner,  or 
general  custom  of  the  times."  With  Christmas  commenced  the 
season  of  mumming,  and  the  reign  of  the  "  Lord  of  Misrule,"  or 
"  Abbot  of  Unreason,"  as  he  was  called  in  Scotland,  and  which 
Scott  describes  in  The  Abbot.  These  pleasantries,  which  were 
carried  frequently  to  great  excess,  were  the  remains  of  the 
ancient  saturnalia,  which  existed  before  the  introduction  of 
Christianity.  The  decoration  of  churches  with  evergreens, 
is  a  pleasing  relic  of  these  old  times.  These  old  customs,  which 
seem  dying  away  like  distant  music,  find  but  a  faint  echo  in 
our  modern  matter-of-fact  days  ;  yet  it  is  pleasant  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  our  jovial  forefathers,  as  they  were  accustomed  to 
regale  themselves  at  this  merry-making  season.  A  very  plea 
sant  book  has  chronicled  their  story,*  and  we  commend  its  peru 
sal  to  all  those  who  have  any  fancy  for  such  items  as  the 
sirloin,  the  plum-pudding,  and  good  old  sack.  Twelfth-day — 
the  anniversary  of  the  adoration  of  the  magi — occurs  on  the 
twelfth  day  after  Christmas.  Many  curious  customs  are  asso 
ciated  with  its  celebration  in  Great  Britain  and  on  the  Con 
tinent. 

Thus,  in  parts  of  Ireland,  at  night,  they  used  to  set  a  sieve 
of  oats  as  high  as  they  could,  and  place  around  it  twelve 
lighted  candles,  with  a  larger  one,  also  lighted,  in  the  centre. 
This,  of  course,  was  to  typify  Christ  and  his  twelve  apostles  as 
lights  unto  the  world  ;  and  in  Gloucestershire  they  do  it  by 
building  twelve  small  and  one  large  fire  in  the  fields.  In 
Staffordshire,  however,  the  custom  differs,  for  there,  on  the 

*  Hervey's  work  on  Christmas. 


THE   CTCLE   OF  THE   SEASONS.         235 


evening  before,   they  light  a  large  fire  to  commemorate  the 
guiding-star  which  led  the  three  magi  to  Bethlehem. 

lu  many  European  countries  the  rulers  did,  and  in  some  still 
do,  present  the  gifts,  brought  by  the  wise  men,  at  the  altar  of 
their  chapel  on  the  6th  of  January.  Tims  we  find  in  the 
Gentleman1  s  Magazine  for  1759,  in  the  record  for  January  : — 
'  Being  Twelfth-day,  his  majesty  went  to  the  Chapel  Royal, 
with  the  usual  solemnity,  and  offered  gold,  myrrh,  and 
frankincense,  in  three  purses,  at  the  altar,  according  to  ancient 
custom." 

In  some  parts  of  England  there  exists  a  practice  among  the 
farmers  of  going  under  the  apple-trees  on  Twelfth-eve  or  night, 
and  singing  various  couplets.  This  practice  is  known  as 
"  apple-howling,"  and  it  is  supposed  that  without  it  the  apples 
will  not  grow  well  during  the  year. 

"  Dread  Winter  spreads  his  latest  gloom, 
And  reigns  tremendous  o'er  the  conquer'd  year  ; 
How  dead  the  vegetable  kingdom  lies! 
How  dumb  the  tuneful !     Horror  wide  extends 
His  desolate  domain.     Behold,  fond  man! 
See  here  thy  pictured  life  !     Pass  some  few  years — 
Thy  flowYmg  spring,  thy  summer's  ardent  strength, 
And  sober  autumn,  fading  into  age  ; 
The  pale,  concluding  winter  comes  at  last, 
And  shuts  the  scene." 

Our  closing  pages  shall  be  homiletic,  since  Young  admon 
ishes  us  that — 

"We  take  no  note  of  Time, 
But  from  its  loss  ;  to  give  it  then  a  tongue 
Is  wise  in  man/' 

Time  is  the  universal  talent,  subjecting  every  man  living  to  a 
charge  and  an  account.  Within  its  circles  all  our  other 
talents  turn.  They  are  the  wheels  within  this  great  wheel, 


236  SALAD   FOR  THE   SOCIAL. 


whose  united  movement  causes  it  to  revolve,  for,  as  they  are 
duly  exercised,  Time  is  successfully  employed.  It  is  Uie  entail 
of  humanity,  come  down  to  us  as  our  inalienable  heritage  ;  and, 
as  in  the  law  of  primogeniture,  unencumbered  with  one  father's 
debts.  May  we  prove  such  wise  occupants  and  inheritors  of 
this  invaluable  property,  that,  whatever  may  be  the  passing 
anxieties  of  its  tenure,  we  may  realize  its  profits  hereafter. 

"  'Tis  not  for  man  to  trifle !    Life  is  brief, 

And  sin  is  here. 
Our  age  is  but  the  falling  of  a  leaf, 

A  dropping  tear. 

We  have  no  time  to  sport  away  the  hours  ; 
All  must  be  earnest  iu  a  world  like  ours. 

"|Not  many  lives,  but  only  one  have  we  ; 

One,  only  one — 
How  sacred  should  that  one  life  ever  be — 

That  narrow  span ! 

Day  after  day  filled  up  with  blessed  toil, 
Hour  after  hour  still  bringing  in  new  spoil." 

As  in  money,  so  in  time,  we  arc  to  look  chiefly  to  the 
smallest  portions.  Take  care  of  the  minutes  and  the  hours, 
and  years  will  take  care  of  themselves.  Gold  is  not  found, 
for  the  most  part,  in  great  masses,  but  in  little  grains.  It 
is  sifted  out  of  the  sand  in  minute  particles,  which,  melted 
together,  produce  the  rich  ingots  that  excite  the  world's  cupid 
ity.  So  the  small  moments  of  time,  its  odds  and  ends,  put 
together,  may  form  a  great  and  beautiful  work. 

"Catch  the  seconds  as  they're  passing, 

Wait  not  for  the  hours: 
Prize  them  as  a  golden  treasure — 
Use  them  not  in  trifling  pleasure — 
Seconds,  minutes — prizing,  holding 
As  you  would  sweet  buds  unfolding 
Into  choicest  flowers." 


THE      CYCLE      OF      THE      SEASON 


Hale  wrote  his  contemplations  while  on  his  law  circuits.  Dr. 
Mason  Good  translated  ''  Lucretius"  in  his  carriage,  while,  as 
a  physician,  he  rode  from  door  to  door.  One  of  the  chan 
cellors  of  France  penned  a  bulky  volume  in  the  successive 
intervals  of  daily  waiting  for  dinner.  Kirk  White  studied 
Greek  as  he  was  going  to  and  from  a  lawyer's  office.  Burney 
learned  French  and  Italian  while  riding  on  horseback.  Frank 
lin  laid  the  foundations  of  his  wonderful  stock  of  knowledge 
in.  his  dinner-hours  and  evenings,  while  working  as  a  printer's 
boy. 

"  A  day  has  perished  from  our  brief  calendar  of  days  ;  and 
that  we  could  endure  ;  but  this  day  is  no  more  than  the  reite 
ration  of  many  other  days,  days  counted  by  thousands,  that' 
have  perished  to  the  same  extent  and  by  the  same  unhappy 
means,  viz.,  the  evil  usages  of  the  world  made  effectual  and 
ratified  by  our  own  lachete.  Bitter  is  the  upbraiding  which  we 
seem  to  hear  from  a  secret  monitor — '  My  friend,  you  make 
very  free  with  your  days  ;  pray,  ho\v  many  do  you  expect  to 
have  ?  What  is  your  rental  as  regards  the  total  harvest  of 
days  which  this  life  is  likely  to  yield  ?'  Let  us  consider. — 
Threescore  years  and  ten  produce  a  total  number  of  25,550 
days  ;  to  say  nothing  of  some  seventeen  or  eighteen  more  that 
will  be  payable  to  you  as  a  bonus  on  account  of  leap-years. 
Now,  out  of  this  total,  one-third  must  be  deducted  at  a  blow 
for  a  single  item,  viz.,  sleep.  Next,  on  account  of  illness,  of 
recreation,  and  the  serious  occupations  spread  over  the  surface 
of  life,  it  will  be  little  enough  to  deduct  another  third.  Recol 
lect  also  that  twenty  years  will  have  gone  from  the  earlier 
end  of  your  life  (viz.,  above  seven  thousand  days)  before  you 
can  have  attained  any  skill  or  system,  or  any  definite  purpose 
in  the  distribution  of  your  time.  Lastly,  for  that  single  item 
which,  amongst  the  Roman  armies,  was  indicated  by  the  tech 
nical  phrase  "corpus  curare,"  tendance  on  the  animal  necessi 
ties,  viz.,  eating,  drinking,  washing,  bathing,  and  exercise, 


238  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


deduct  the  smallest  allowance  consistent  with  propriety,  and, 
upon  summing  up  all  these  appropriations,  you  will  not  find  so 
much  as  four  thousand  days  left  disposable  for  direct  intel 
lectual  culture.  Four  thousand,  or  forty  hundreds,  will  be  a 
hundred  forties — that  is,  according  to  the  lax  Hebrew  method 
of  indicating  six  weeks  by  the  phrase  of  forty  days,  you  will 
have  a  hundred  bills  or  drafts  on  Father  Time,  value  six  weeks 
each,  as  the  whole  period  available  for  intellectual  labor.  A 
solid  block  of  about  eleven  and  a  half  continuous  years  is  all 
that  a  long  life  will  furnish  for  the  development  of  what  is  most 
august  in  man's  nature."* 

Here  are  we  compelled  to  stay  the  pen  ;  for  as  we  have 
completed  our  circuit  of  the  seasons,  and  briefly  recounted  the 
characteristics  of  the  calendar — nothing  further  remains  to  us, 
but  to  wind  up  anew  the  "  annual  clock  of  Time." 

And  while  we  bespeak  for  the  reader  a  happy  new  year,  we 
are  constrained  to  thank  old  father  Time  for  the  many  pleasant 
hours  he  has  given  us,  and  to  forgive  all  the  inflictions  visited 
in  his  illiberal  designs  against  our  personal  comfort — in  blanch 
ing  the  ruddy  tints  of  youth,  dimming  the  lustre  of  the  eye, 
or  reducing  the  elasticity  of  the  step.  And,  although  he  has 
caused  us  to  taste  occasionally  the  bitterness  of  sorrow,  yet 
has  he  mingled  many  sweets  in  the  chalice  of  life,  which  it 
would  be  ungrateful  to  forget. 

Moreover,  Time  has  infused  into  us  a  little  sage  and  cheer 
ful  philosophy,  inspiring  us  with  a  "  faith  which  looks  on  the 
bright  side  of  things. 

Time  brings  a  philosophic  mind  ; 

Time  takes  more  than  be  leaves  behind  ; 

Time  is  a  thief  of  joys  ; 
Time  turns  our  golden  locks  to  gray ; 
Time  draws  a  bill  which  all  must  pay  ; 

Time  makes  old  men  of  boys. 

*  De  Quiacey. 


THE   CYCLE   OF   THE   SEASONS.        239 


Time,  with  his  scythe  and  hour-glass,  stands 
To  reap  the  harvest  of  our  lands, 

To  shorten  prosperous  days  ; 
Time  eats  the  keenest  steel  to  rust ; 
Time  crumbles  monuments  to  dust ; 

Time  robs  us  of  our  praise. 

Much  fault  is  found  with  Father  Time, 
la  books  and  speeches,  prose  and  rhyme  ; 

But  we  will  not  upbraid. 
For  he  has  left  our  hearts  as  young 
As  when,  long  since,  we  laughed  and  sung 

In  sunlight  and  in  shade.* 

"We  know  what  we  are,"  said  poor  Ophelia,  "  but  we  know 
not  what  we  may  be."  Perhaps  she  would  have  spoken  with 
a  nicer  accuracy  had  she  said,  "  we  know  what  we  have  been." 
Of  our  present  state  we  can,  strictly  speaking,  know  nothing. 
The  act  of  meditation  on  ourselves,  however  quick  and  subtle, 
must  refer  to  the  past,  in  which  alone  we  can  truly  be  said  to 
live.  Even  in  the  moment  of  intensest  enjoyment,  our  pleasures 
are  multiplied  by  the  quick-revolving  images  of  thought  ;  we 
feel  the  past  and  future  in  each  fragment  of  the  instant,  as  the 
flavor  of  every  drop  of  some  delicious  liquid  is  heightened  and 
prolonged  on  the  lips.  It  is  the  past  only  which  we  really  enjoy 
as  soon  as  we  become  sensible  of  duration.  Each  by-gone 
instant  of  delight  becomes  rapidly  present  to  us,  and  "  bears  a 
glass  which  shows  us  many  more."  This  is  the  great  privilege 
of  a  meditative  being — never  properly  to  have  any  sense  of  the 
present,  but  to  feel  the  great  realities  as  they  pass  away,  cast 
ing  their  delicate  shadows  on  the  future. 

Talfourd  has  some  excellent  remarks  on  this  subject :  "  The 
ordinary  language  of  moralists  respecting  time  shows  that  we 
really  know  nothing  respecting  it.  They  say  that  life  is  fleeting 
and  short  ;  why,  humanly  speaking,  may  they  not  as  well 
affirm  that  it  is  extended  and  lasting  ?  The  words  '  short '  and 

*  Park  Benjamin. 


240  SALAD   FOR  THE   SOCIAL. 


'long'  have  only  meaning  when  used  comparatively  ;  and  to 
what  can  we  compare  or  liken  this  our  human  existence  ?  The 
images  of  fragility — thin  vapors,  delicate  flowers,  and  shadows 
cast  from  the  most  fleeting  things — which  we  employ  as 
emblems  of  its  transitoriness,  really  serve  to  exhibit  its  dura 
bility  as  great  in  comparison  with  their  own. 

Mere  time,  unpeopled  with  diversified  emotions  or  circum 
stances,  is  but  one  idea,  and  that  idea  is  nothing  more  than 
the  remembrance  of  a  listless  sensation.  A  night  of  dull  pain 
and  months  of  lingering  weakness  are,  in  the  retrospect,  nearly 
the  same  thing.  When  our  hands  or  our  hearts  are  busy,  we 
know  nothing  of  time — it  does  not  exist  for  us  ;  but  as  soon 
as  we  pause  to  meditate  on  that  which  is  gone,  we  seem  to  have 
lived  long,  because  we  look  back  through  a  long  series  of  events, 
or  feel  them  at  once  peering  one  above  the  other  like  ranges  of 
distant  hills.  Actions  or  feelings,  not  hours,  mark  all  the 
backward  course  of  our  being.  Our  sense  of  the  nearness  to 
us  of  any  circumstance  in  our  life  is  determined  on  the  same 
principles — not  by  the  revolutions  of  the  seasons,  but  by  the 
relation  which  the  event  bears  in  importance  to  all  that  has 
happened  to  us  since.  To  him  who  has  thought,  or  done,  or 
suffered  much,  the  level  days  of  his  childhood  seem  at  an 
immeasurable  distance,  far  off  as  the  age  of  chivalry,  or  as 
the  line  of  Sesostris.  There  are  some  recollections  of  such 
overpowering  vastness,  that  their  objects  seem  ever  near  ;  their 
size  reduces  all  intermediate  events  to  nothing  ;  and  they  peer 
upon  us  like  "  a  forked  mountain,  or  blue  promontory,"  which, 
being  far  off,  is  yet  nigh.  How  different  from  these  appears 
some  inconsiderable  occurrence  of  more  recent  date,  which  a 
flash  of  thought  redeems  for  a  moment  from  long  oblivion  ; — 
which  is  seen  amidst  the  dim  confusion  of  half-forgotten  things, 
like  a  little  rock  lighted  up  by  a  chance  gleam  of  sunshine  afar 
in  the  mighty  waters  ! 

What  immense  difference  is  there,  then,  in  the  real  duration 
of  men's  lives  !  He  lives  longest  of  all  who  looks  back  oftenest, 


THE   CYCLE   OF   THE   SEASONS.         241 


whose  life  is  most  populous  of  thought  or  action,  and  on  every 
retrospect  makes  the  vastest  picture.  The  man  who  does  not 
meditate  has  no  real  consciousness  of  being.  Such  an  one 
goes  to  death  as  to  a  drunken  sleep  ;  he  parts  with  existence 
wantonly,  because  he  knows  nothing  of  its  value. 

Hazlitt  observes  in  his  "  Table  Talk  :" 

"  The  length  or  agreeableness  of  a  journey  does  not  depend  on 
the  few  last  steps  of  it,  nor  is  the  size  of  a  building  to  be  judged 
of  from  the  last  stone  that  is  added  to  it.  It  is  neither  the  first 
nor  the  last  hour  of  our  existence,  but  the  space  that  parts 
these  two — nor  our  exit,  nor  our  entrance  upon  the  stage,  but 
what  we  do,  feel,  and  think  while  there — that  we  are  to  attend 
to  in  pronouncing  sentence  upon  it.  Indeed,  it  would  be  easy 
to  show  that  it  is  the  very  extent  of  human  life,  the  infinite 
number  of  things  contained  in  it,  its  contradictory  and  fluctua 
ting  interests,  the  transition  from  one  situation  to  another,  the 
hours,  months,  years,  spent  in  one  fond  pursuit  after  another  ; 
that  it  is,  in  a  word,  the  length  of  our  common  journey,  and  the 
quantity  of  events  crowded  into  it,  that,  baffling  the  grasp  of 
our  actual  perception,  make  it  slide  from  our  memory,  and 
dwindle  into  nothing  in  its  own  perspective.  It  is  too  mighty 
for  us,  and  we  say  it  is  nothing  !  It  is  a  speck  in  our  fancy, 
and  yet  what  canvass  would  be  big  enough  to  hold  its  striking 
groups,  its  endless  objects  !  It  is  light  as  vanity  ;  and  yet,  if 
all  its  weary  moments,  if  all  its  head  and  heart-aches  were 
compressed  into  one,  what  fortitude  would  not  be  overwhelmed 
with  the  blow  !  What  a  huge  heap,  a  '  huge  dumb  heap,'  of 
wishes,  thoughts,  feelings,  anxious  cares,  soothing  hopes,  loves, 
joys,  friendships,  it  is  composed  of  !  " 

With  what  accelerated  speed  the  years 

Seem  to  flit  by  us,  sowing  hopes  and  fears 
As  they  pursue  their  never-ceasing  march  ! 
But  is  our  wisdom  equal  to  the  speed 

Which  brings  us  nearer  to  the  shadowy  bourn 

Whence  we  must  never,  never  more  return  ? 
11 


242  SALAD      *  O  R      THE      SOCIAL. 

Alas!  the  wish  is  wiser  than  the  deed ! 

"  We  take  no  note  of  time  but  from  its  loss," 

Sang  one  who  reasoned  solemnly  and  well. 
And  so  it  is ;  we  make  that  dowry  dross 

Which  would  be  treasure,  did  we  learn  to  quell 
Vain  dreams  and  passions.     Wisdom's  alchemy 

Transmutes  to  priceless  gold  the  moments  as  they  fly, 


THE  HUMORS  OF  LAW. 


"  These  are  the  spiders  of  society ; 
They  weave  their  petty  webs  of  lies  and  sneers, 
And  lie  themselves  in  ambush  for  the  spoil, 
The  web  seems  fair  and  glitters  in  the  sun, 
And  the  poor  victim  winds  him  in  the  toil, 
Before  he  dreams  of  danger,  or  of  death." 

L.  u.  L. 

"  Laws  are  like  spiders'  webs,  that  will  catch  flies,  but  not  wasps  and  hornets." 

ANACHARSIS. 

LAW  is  law — and,  as  in  such,  and  so  forth,  and  hereby,  and 
aforesaid,  provided  always,  nevertheless,  notwithstanding.  Law 
is  like  a  blistering  plaster — it  is  a  great  irritator  and  only  to  b€ 
used  in  cases  of  great  extremity.  Law,  again,  is  compared  to 
a  country-dance;  people  are  led  up  and  down  in  it  'till  they  are 
thoroughly  tired.  Law  is  like  a  book  of  surgery;  there  are  a 
great  many  terrible  cases  in  it.  It  is  also  like  physic;  they 
that  take  the  least  of  it  are  best  off.  It  is  like  a  scolding  wife; 
very  bad  when  it  follows  us.  It  is  like  bad  weather;  people 
are  glad  when  they  get  out  of  it. 

Take,  again,  the  following  lucid  definition  of  legal  science  : 

243 


244  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


"  Law  always  expresses  itself  with  true  grammatical  precision, 
never  confounding  moods,  tenses,  cases,  or  genders,  except, 
indeed,  when  a  woman  happens  accidentally  to  be  slain,  then  the 
verdict  brought  in,  is  manslaughter.  The  essence  of  law  is 
altercation,  for  the  law  can  altercate,  fulminate,  deprecate, 
irritate,  and  go  on  at  any  rate.  Xow  the  quintessence  of  the 
law  has,  according  to  its  name,  five  points — the  first  is  the 
beginning  or  incipiendum,  the  second  its  uncertainty,  or 
dubitandum,  the  third  delay,  or  puzzliendum,  the  fourth  repli 
cation  without  endum,  and  fifth  monstrum  et  horrendum?* 

"  I  hope,"  says  the  lawyer  in  Steele's  comedy,  "  to  see  the 
day  when  the  indenture  shall  be  the  exact  measure  of  the  land 
that  passes  by  it ;  for  it  is  a  discouragement  to  the  gown  that 
every  ignorant  rogue  of  an  heir  should  in  a  word  or  two  under 
stand  his  father's  meaning,  and  hold  ten  acres  of  land  by  half 
an  acre  of  parchment.  Let  others  think  of  logic,  rhetoric,  and 
I  know  not  what  impertinence,  but  mind  thou  tautology. 
"What's  the  first  excellence  in  a  lawyer  ?  tautology.  What's 
the  second  ?  tautology.  What's  the  third?  tautology;  as  an 
old  pleader  said  of  action."f 

Another  facetious  writerj  fortunately  comes  to  our  aid  in 
defining  our  mysterious  subject.  "  Law,"  he  affirms,  "  is  like 
fire;  since  those  who  meddle  with  it  may  chance  to  burn  their 
fingers.  It  is  like  a  pocket  with  a  hole  in  it  ;  and  those  who 
risk  their  money  therein  are  liable  to  lose  it.  It  is  a  lancet ; 
dangerous  in  the  hands  of  the  ignorant,  doubtful  even  in  the 
hands  of  an  adept.  Law  is  like  a  sieve;  you  may  see  through 
it — but  you  will  be  considerably  reduced  before  you  get 
through  it. 

It  is  to  the  litigant  what  the  poulterer  is  to  the  goose  ;  it 
plucks  and  it  draws  him  ;  but  here  the  simile  ends,  for  the 
litigant,  unlike  the  goose,  never  gets  trust,  although  he  may  be 
roasted  and  dished. 

*  Stevens'  lecture  on  Head.  t  Soutliey's  Cammon-plac*  book. 

$  The  author  of  the  "  Tin  Trumpet." 


THE      HUMORS      OF      LAW.  245 


It  is  like  an  ignis  fatuus ;  those  who  follow  the  delusive 
guide  too  often  find  themselves  inextricably  involved  in  a  bog. 

It  is  like  an  eel-trap  ;  very  easy  to  get  into,  but  very  diffi 
cult  to  get  out  of. 

It  is  like  a  razor:  which  requires  "  a  strong  back,"  keenness, 
and  an  excellent  temper. 

N.  B. — Many  of  those  who  get  once  shaved  seldom  risk  a 
second  operation. 

It  is  like  a  flight  of  rockets  ;  there  is  a  great  expense  of 
powder,  the  cases  are  usually  well  "got  up,"  the  reports  are 
excellent,  but  after  all,  the  sticks  (the  clients)  are  sure  to 
come  to  the  ground."  ' 

Hay  sets  the  matter  to  music  in  the  following  stanza: 

Law  is  like  longitude,  about, 
Never  completely  yet  found  out ; 

Though  practised  notwithstanding. 
'Tis  like  the  fatalist's  strange  creed, 
Which  justifies  a  wicked  deed, 

While  sternly  reprimanding ! 

If  a  man  would,  according  to  law,  give  to  another  an  orange, 
instead  of  saying,  "I  give  you  that  orange,"  which  one  would 
think  would  be  what  is  called  in  legal  phraseology,  "an  absolute 
conveyance  of  all  right  and  title  therein,"  the  phrase  would  run 
thus:  "I  give  you,  all  and  singular,  my  estate  and  interest,  right, 
title,  and  claim,  and  advantage  of  and  in  that  orange,  with  all 
its  rind,  skin,  juice,  pulps,  and  all  right  and  advantages  therein, 
with  full  power  to  bite,  cut,  suck,  or  otherwise  eat  the  same 
orange,  or  give  the  same  away,  with  or  without  all  its  rind, 
skin,  juice,  pulp  and  pips,  anything  heretofore  or  hereinafter,  or 
in  any  other  deed  or  deeds,  instruments,  of  what  nature  or  kind 
soever,  to  the  contrary  in  anywise  notwithstanding;"  and  much 
more  to  the  same  effect.  Such  is  the  language  of  lawyers  ;  and 
it  is  gravely  held  by  the  most  learned  men  among  them,  that  by 
the  omission  of  any  of  those  words  the  right  to  the  same  orange 


240  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


would  not  pass  to  the  person  for  whose  use  the  same  was 
intended. 

Lord  Brougham  once  facetiously  defined  a  lawyer  thus:  "a 
learned  gentleman,  who  rescues  your  estate  from  your  enemies, 
and  keeps  it  himself." 

A  wag,  being  left  trustee  under  a  will  by  which  the  testator 
left  a  small  freehold  property  to  be  sold  for  charitable  purposes, 
sold  it,  and  discovered  the  trust  to  be  illegal.  As  the  sum  was 
too  small  in  amount  to  bear  a  suit  in  equity  (being  not  above 
sixty  pounds),  he  laughed  very  heartily  at  thy  next  of  kin, 
pocketed  it  himself,  spent  it.  and  died. 

Human  laws  are  designed  mainly  to  protect  absolute  rights  ; 
the  laws,  or  the  lawyers,  however,  often  interfere  with  what 
seems  absolutely  right,  till  there  is  nothing  absolutely  left  of  the 
original  right — and  absolute  wrong  is  of  necessity  the  conse 
quence.  Those  reputed  allies — equity  and  justice — seem  in  these 
boasted  days  of  "  progress,"  not  only  to  have  repudiated  their 
avowed  relationship,  but  even  to  have  well-nigh  lost  all  kind  of 
respect  for  each  other.*  Cato,  it  is  stated,  pleaded  four  hundred 
eases,  and  won  them  all.  Charity  would  lead  us  to  indulge  the  hope 
ihat  a  sterner  virtue  existed  in  his  day,  at  any  rate  to  warrant  the 
adoption  of  the  insignia  of  the  well-balanced  scales  of  the  blind 
goddess.  It  is  with  law  as  with  physic — the  less  we  have  to 
do  with  it  the  better  :  still,  so  long  as  diseases  and  discord  dis 
turb  the  social  fabric,  pacification  and  pills  seem  to  be  indis 
pensable,  and  we  must,  therefore,  content  ourselves  witli  what 
ever  the  collective  wisdom  of  ancient  and  modern  sages  has 
prescribed  as  antidotes.  Let  us  indulge  the  hope  that  the 


*The  difficulty  of  ascertaining  the  precise  meaning  of  laic,  led  to  the  establishment  of 
a  distinct  branch  of  jurisprudence,  called  equity.  Lord  Chancellor  Eldon,  it  will  be 
remembered,  presided  something  like  half  a  century  over  the  highest  institution  of  this 
kind  in  England;  so  frequently,  indeed,  was  his  mighty  mind  poised  on  questions  of 
gravest  import,  that  the  utmost  his  excessive  erudition,  caution,  and  modesty  would 
permit  him  to  arrive  at,  after  months,  and  often  years  of  patient  investigation,  was — to 
doubt.  No  master-mind  of  modern  times,  perhaps,  was  a  more  thorough  doubter;  and 
yet  who  dares  question  his  sagacious  wit? 


THE      HUMOUS      OF      LAW.  247 


hitherto  protracted  process  of  Jaw,  will,  ere  long,  be  divested 
of  its  wilderness  waste  of  words,  and  reduced  dowu  to  the  sim 
ple  elements  of  verity  and  common  sense — something  analo 
gous  to  the  homoeopathic  system  of  medicine.  Justinian  has 
reduced  tiie  principles  of  law  to  three:  first,  that  we  should  live 
honestly;  secondly,  that  we  should  hurt  nobody;  and  thirdly, 
that  we  should  give  to  every  one  his  due.  These  principles 
have,  however,  long  ago  become  obsolete  in  ordinary  legal 
practice.  Natural  law  and  artificial,  possess,  it  would  seem, 
little  in  common  ;  the  former  indicates  man's  true  happiness  and 
peace — the  latter  too  often  proves  the  bane  of  both.  It  is  said 
that  no  human  laws  are  of  any  validity  if  they  are  contrary  to 
those  of  nature  ;  but  who  will,  for  instance,  venture  to  deny  the 
reality  of  the  Poor-Laws.  In  this  case,  as  in  most  others,  the 
law  is  more  beneficial  to  its  administrator — the  lawyer — than  the 
party  whose  interests  it  is  ostensibly  designed  to  subserve. 

Of  justice,  one  of  the  heathen  sages  has  shown,  with  great 
acuteness,  that  it  was  impressed  upon  mankind  only  by  the 
inconveniences  which  injustice  had  produced.  The  passage 
referred  to  is  the  following  :  "  In  the  first  ages,  men  acted 
without  any  rule  but  the  impulse  of  desire  ;  they  practised 
injustice  upon  others,  and  suffered  it  from  others  in  return  ; 
but  in  time  it  was  discovered  that  the  pain  of  suffering  wrong 
was  greater  than  the  pleasure  of  doing  it,  and  mankind,  by  a 
general  compact,  submitted  to  the  restraint  of  laws,  and 
resigned  the  pleasure  to  escape  the  pain."  Whether  to 
expediency,  the  Decalogue,  or  an  intuitive  moral  sense,  we 
trace  its  source,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  abstract  principle 
of  justice  is  essential  to  the  hapiness  of  society.  If  law  were 
but  the  synonym  of  equity  and  justice,  and  its  administrators, 
without  exception,  men  of  inflexible  integrity,  would  any  one 
be  found  to  complain,  as  now,  of  the  grievous  pecuniary  costs 
and  trouble  attending  its  dispensation? 

Law  has  been  compared  to  a  new  boot — a  luxury  which  we 
approach  with  undisguised  reluctance,  and  quit  with  supreme 


248  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


delight — a  thing  which  transforms  the  ordinary  calm  and 
placable  man  into  a  living  torment  to  himself  and  all  around 
him.  In  more  primitive  times,  our  simple-hearted  and  trusting 
grandsires  seem  to  have  settled  their  differences  in  a  much 
more  summary  mode  than  we  are  accustomed*  to  :  possibly 
because  they  possessed  fewer  of  those  learned  expounders  of 
legal  lore,  whose  province,  at  least  in  part,  appears  to  be  to 
distort  plain  common  sense  and  truth  into  all  the  tortuous 
twists  and  sinuosities  of  which  a  lawyer's  logic  is  susceptible. 
Then,  an  "action  at  law"  was  a  mere  bagatelle; — it  is  not  so 
now  ;  it  forms  an  era  in  a  man's  history.  Besides,  men  in 
those  days  were  more  placable,  and  soon  forgot  their  squabbles 
and  animosities  ;  now,  they  are  not  allowed  to  do  so  ;  it  would 
be  a  direct  fraud  and  infringement  upon  the  rights  of  the  legal 
subject. 

The  scene  presented  at  a  court  of  justice  (i.  e.  law)  is  one  of 
strange  interest.  It  is  there  human  nature  may  be  studied 
with  great  effect.  The  passions  of  men  are  not  only  brought 
iuto  play — they  riot  in  dire  confusion.  The  cupidity  and  cun 
ning  of  counsel,  the  qualms  and  querulousness  of  the  clients, 
the  stern  immobility  of  the  judge,  the  officiousness  of  the  crier, 
and  the  stolid  indifference  of  those  ominous  individuals  who  are 
to  decide  the  fate  of  the  contending  parties,  contrast  broadly 
with  the  vulgar  curiosity  evinced  by  the  promiscuous  crowd. 
A  suit  at  law  is,  beyond  all  controversy,  a  most  uncomfortable 
one — it  unfits  a  man  for  everything  else  ;  it  disturbs  his  peace, 
wastes  his  money,  and  too  often  ruins  his  reputation.  The 
very  term — suit  at  law,  is,  by  the  way,  a  misnomer;  for  it 
frequently  strips  a  man  of  all  he  has,  for  he  seldom  gets  any 
re-dress.  In  fact,  the  infelicities  of  an  action  at  law  are  too 
numerous  for  detail,  but  we  need  not  make  the  attempt,  since 
some  wag  has  furnished  the  following :  "  A  law-suit/'  he 
insists,  "  isJike  an  ill-managed  dispute,  in  which  the  first  object 
is  lost  sight  of,  and  the  parties  end  upon  a  matter  wholly 
irrelevant  to  that  on  which  they  began.  It  is  an  ingeniously 


THE      HUMORS      OF      LAW.  249 


contrived  web,  whose  meshes  are  spread  out  for  the  ensnaring 
of  the  unwary — a  maze  of  inextricable  perplexities  designed  to 
deprive  the  artless  of  their  freedom,  whom  it  decoys  by  its 
plausible  pretences."  Gay  is  somewhat  sportive  with  the  legal 
profession,  in  the  well-known  lines  : — 

"  I  know  you  lawyers  can  with  ease, 
Twist  words  and  meanings  as  you  please  ; 
That  language,  by  your  skill  made  pliant. 
Will  bend  to  favor  every  client ; 
That  'tis  the  fee  directs  the  sense, 
To  make  out  either  side's  pretence — 
When  you  peruse  the  clearest  case, 
You  see  it  with  a  double  face  : 
For  scepticism's  your  profession. 
You  hold  there's  doubt  in  all  expression." 

Equity  is  one  of  our  natural  wants,  but  it  is  not  very  easy 
to  be  obtained,  owing  to  the  moral  obliquity  so  prevalent 
among  men  ;  the  institution  of  law  has  come  to  be  regarded  as 
its  substitute.  If  it  were  its  true  equivalent  we  should  have 
nothing  to  complain  of.  Yet  law  is  regarded  by  many  as  a 
necessary  evil  ;  and  a  certain  writer*  likens  it  to  "  war,  pesti 
lence,  and  famine,  or  lunatic  asylums,  poor-houses,  and  peni 
tentiaries,  or  apothecaries'-shops,  with  their  adulterous  abomi 
nations,  and  every  other  substitute  for,  and  abridgment  of, 
human  liberty,  human  happiness,  and  health."  If  even  law 
were  proved  to  be  a  positive  good,  we  have  so  much  of  it  that 
it  has  come  to  be  a  positive  evil.  Added  to  its  countless 
statute-books,  its  codes,  civil,  common,  and  canon,  we  have 
such  voluminous  commentaries  as  no  mortal  man  can  compre 
hend  or  even  read.  This  prodigality  of  law  has  proved  the 
occasion  of  an  equally  prolific  race  of  lawyers,  scarcely  any  two 
of  whom  interpret  law  alike. 

In  large  communities  there  must  necessarily  exist  a  need  for 

*  John  NeaU 

11* 


250  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


men  who  shall  be  empowered  to  arbitrate  between  contending 
parties  ;  and  it  is  unreasonable  to  expect,  where  so  many  con 
flicting  interests  exist,  there  shall  not  be  found  frequent  occa 
sion  for  the  exercise  of  the  prerogative.  Yet  that  is  no  reason 
Vvhy  good,  well-meaning  people,  who  may  occasionally  come 
into  collision  with  each  other,  and  whose  conscientious  scruples 
induce  them  to  appeal  to  an  accredited  authority  for  the  settle 
ment  of  their  disputations,  should  become  the  victims  of  merci 
less  harpies,  who,  under  pretext  of  defending  the  right,  seek  to 
serve  their  own,  rather  thau  their  clients'  interests. 

"  So  law  is  wrested  from  her  righteous  ends, 
And  forced  to  serve  the  rogue  it  should  convict ; 
Justice  her  weight  to  the  wrong  balance  lends, 
And  her  decrees  with  her  own  self  conflict ! 
But,  cheated  by  the  solemn  scales  and  hood, 
The  multitude  applaud,  and  call  it — Good." 

The  fault,  in  some  instances,  rests  more  with  the  client  than 
the  counsel  :  the  judicial  reports  exhibit  many  such  absurdi 
ties.  In  the  Chancery  Court  of  England,  the  case  of  Xarty 
vs.  Duncan  occurred,  in  which  suit  actually  two  thousand 
pounds  sterling  were  expended  in  determining  which  party  was 
liable  to  paint  a  board  and  whitewash  a  sign  ! 

Law  itself,  when  in  accordance  with  justice  and  equity,  is,  of 
course,  unimpeachable.  It  is  of  its  mal-administratiou  we 
complain. 

The  ancients,  as  proof  of  their  reverence  for  law  and  justice, 
represented  their  goddess,  Themis,  as  the  daughter  of  Heaven 
and  Earth — of  Heaven,  as  typical  of  her  purity  and  holiness — of 
Earth,  as  representing  her  abode  and  sphere  of  action.  To 
denote  her  strength,  she  was  of  Titanic  origin  ;  as  an  appreciation 
of  her  consequence,  she  was  placed  l>y  the  side  of  Jupiter,  the 
father  of  gods  and  men.  This  respect  was  awarded  to  abstract 
justice,  even  when  men  suffered  under  the  bloody  code  of  Draco 
— when  they  did  not  enjoy  the  more  perfect  system  of  the  pre- 


THE      HUMORS      OF      LAW.  251 


sent  day.  Well  may  we  shout  hosannahs  and  sing  anthems, 
when  we  remember  that  the  laws  of  Draco,  the  Pandects  of 
Justinian,  and  the  Decretals  of  Gregory,  are  now  among  the 
things  that  were,  and  that  now  we  live  in  an  age  when  men 
know  and  realize  what  are  their  rights  and  what  is  the  spirit 
and  genius  of  law.  "The  lawyer,"  said  Burke,  "has  his 
forms  and  his  positive  institutions,  and  he  adheres  to  them  with 
a  veneration  altogether  as  religious  as  the  divine.  The  worst 
cause  cannot  be  so  prejudicial  to  the  litigant  as  his  attorney's 
ignorance  of  forms.  A  good  parson  once  said,  where  mystery 
begins,  there  religion  ends.  May  not  the  same  be  said  of  jus 
tice — that  where  the  mystery  of  forms  begins  there  all  justice 
ends  ?"  There  is,  it  must  be  conceded,  but  too  much  justice 
in  the  sarcasm. 

The  study  of  law  has  a  sad  tendency  to  pervert  the  intel 
lect  and  destroy  the  capability  of  distinguishing  betweeu 
right  and  wrong.  Lawyers  do  not  try  a  question  upon  its 
merits,  but  by  legal  precedent. 

Bishop  Hooker,  speaking  of  Law,  says  :  "  no  less  can  be 
acknowledged  than  that  her  seat  is  the  bosom  of  God,  and  her 
voice,  the  harmony  of  the  universe.  All  things  in  heaven  and 
earth  do  her  homage  :  the  humblest  feeling  her  influence,  and 
the  greatest  not  exempted  from  her  power.  Angels  and  crea 
tures  of  all  conditions,  with  uniform  consent,  unite  in  admiring 
her  as  the  mother  of  peace  and  joy." 

Man  needs  nothing  more  than  a  knowledge  of  justice  and  a 
due  regard  for  it,  to  secure  happiness.  Blackstone  holds 
the  sentiment  that  the  laws  of  eternal  justice  are  so  inter 
woven  in  the  web  of  individual  happiness  that  the  latter  cannot 
be  obtained  without  observing  the  former  ;  and  if  the  former 
be  punctually  obeyed  it  cannot  but  induce  the  latter. 

The  truthfulness  of  the  sentiment  is  strikingly  in  accord 
ance  with  the  experience  of  the  good  and  just,  and  is  worthy 
of  the  learning  and  integrity  of  that  great  authority. 

In  early  times,  chancellors  arid  judges  combined  the  dis- 


'2o'2  S  A  L  A _D      FOR      T  H  K      SOCIAL. 

pensation  of  the  Gospel  with  that  of  the  law.  In  Campbell's 
Lives  of  the  Judges,  we  learn  that  among  those  clerical  chan 
cellors,  there  occurs  but  one  who  did  not  ultimately  reach  the 
mitre.  This  was  John  Maunsel  (A.D.  1246),  who,  while  hold 
ing  the  Great  Seal,  became  Provost  of  Beverley,  his  highest 
Church  preferment — but  not  his  only  one.  This  personage, 
according  to  Matthew  Paris,  held  at  once  700  livings.  He 
had,  it  is  presumed,  presented  himself  to  all  that  fell  vacant, 
and  were  in  the  gift  of  the  Crown,  while  he  was  chancellor. 

Many  noble  names  have  reflected  lustre  upon  the  legal  pro 
fession,  such  as  More,  Bacon,  Blackstone,  Sir  William  Jones, 
Burleigh,  Lord  MansGeld,  Brougham,  Chitty,  Coke,  Philips, 
Starkie,  Sugdeu,  Stephens,  "Webster,  Story,  Kent,  Wirt,  Le- 
gare,  &c. 

A  curious  writer  thus  accounts  for  the  history  of  the  tutelar 
saint  of  this  distinguished  profession  : 

"  Evona,  a  lawyer  of  Brittany,  went  to  Rome  to  entreat  the 
Pope  to  give  the  lawyers  a  patron  saint.  The  Pope  replied  that 
he  knew  of  no  saint  not  already  disposed  of  to  some  other 
profession.  His  Holiness,  however,  proposed  that  he  should 
go  round  the  church  of  Giovanni  di  Letirano  blindfolded,  and, 
after  saying  a  number  of  Ave  Marias,  the  first  saint  he  laid 
hold  of  should  be  his  patron.  This  the  good  old  lawyer  under 
took  ;  and  at  the  end  of  his  Ave  Marias,  stopped  at  the  altar 
of  St.  Michael,  where  lie  laid  hold  of,  not  the  saint,  but, 
unfortunately,  the  devil  under  the  saint's  feet,  crying  out,  '  This 
is  our  saint,  let  him  be  our  patron.' '' 

Having  established  the  origin  of  the  genius  or  guardian 
spirit  of  this  erudite  profession,  let  us  now  exhibit  some  of  the 
protean  shapes  and  various  designations  under  which  it  is  recog 
nized  amongst  us.  Common  law  seems  to  be  the  basis  of  all ;  it 
has  more  of  common  sense  in  its  composition  than  its  counter 
part,  civil  law,  which  may  be  said,  on  most  occasions,  to  treat 
all  who  appeal  to  its  sympathies  most  uncivilly. 

The  term  common  law  is  used  in  two  distinct  senses  : — in  its 


THE      HUMORS      OF      LAW.  253 


legitimate  and  legal  signification  it  denotes  old,  unwritten  law 
sanctioned  by  custom  and  precedent  ;  comprising,  it  has  been 
said,  "  all  recognized  doctrines  and  principles,  however  intro 
duced,  which  are  neither  to  be  found  in  the  statute  book,  nor 
depend  on  the  adjudication  of  courts  of  equity  : — in  its  con 
ventional  and  popular  sense,  it  is  used  to  distinguish  it  from 
ecclesiastical  polity  and  equity,  and  thus  it  comprises  all  the 
systems  of  adjudication,  both  criminal  and  civil,  administered 
in  courts  having  trial  by  jury.  In  brief,  law  is  subdivided  into 
the  following  classifications  :  common  and  civil  law,  municipal, 
constitutional,  parliamentary,  ecclesiastical,  maritime  and  mili 
tary.  In  England  there  is  the  Court  of  Queen's  Bench, 
and  both  there  and  in  the  United  States,  there  are  the  Supe 
rior  Court,  Chancery,  Common  Pleas,  Court  of  Appeals, 
and  the  Supreme  Court,  Courts  of  Errors  and  Equity,  and  the 
Ecclesiastical  Court. 

Jeremy  Bentham,  in  answer  to  the  question,  What  is  this 
boasted  English  law  ?  thus  sarcastically  replies  :  "  The  sub 
stantive  part  of  it,  whether  as  written  in  books  or  expounded 
by  judges,  is  a  chaos,  fathomless  and  boundless  ;  the  huge 
and  monstrous  mass  being  made  up  of  fiction,  tautology, 
technicality,  circuity,  irregularity,  and  inconsistency.  The 
administrative  part  of  it  is  a  system  of  exquisitely  contrived 
chicanery  ;  a  system  made  up  of  abuses  ;  a  system  which  con 
stantly  places  the  interest  of  the  judicial  minister  in  opposition 
to  his  duty — so  places  his  interest  in  opposition  to  his  duty, 
that,  in  the  very  proportion  in  which  it  serves  his  ends,  it 
defeats  the  end  of  justice.  A  system  of  self-authorized  and 
unpunishable  depredation — a  system  which  encourages  men 
dacity,  both  by  reward  and  punishment — a  system  which  puts 
fresh  arms  into  the  hands  of  the  injurer,  to  annoy  and  distress 
the  injured." 

Most  law-suits  are  a  juggle,  whose  sole  object  seems  to  be 
the  plunder  of  both  plaintiff  and  defendant  by  the  prolonga 
tion  of  their  quarrel.  "Strange,"  says  old  Fuller,  "that 


254  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


reason  continuing  always  the  same,  law,  grounded  there 
on,  should  be  capable  of  so  great  alteration."  It  is  not 
grounded  upon  reason,  but  upon  the  artifices  of  pettifoggers, 
and  therefore  its  perversions  and  metamorphoses  are  infinite. 
In  Republics,  corruplissima  plurima  leges.  When  Justinian 
compiled  his  Institutes,  the  writings  on  the  civil  law  alone 
amounted  to  many  camel-loads;  ours  may  be  reckoned  by  ship 
loads,  and  the  money  annually  expended  upon  law  and  lawyers 
(not  upon  justice)  may  be  counted  by  millions."* 

During  Lord  Eldon's  chancellorship,  such  was  his  high  sense 
of  rectitude,  that  he  is  said  to  have  retained  counsel,  in  some 
instances,  five,  ten,  and  even  twenty  years  (according  to  the 
capacity  of  the  purse  of  the  parties  concerned),  rather  than 
venture  a  rash  judgment  in  some  equity  cases.  The  longest 
suit  on  record,  in  England,  is  that  of  the  heirs  of  Sir  Thomas 
Talbot  and  the  heirs  of  Lord  Berkeley,  respecting  some  pro 
perty  in  the  county  of  Gloucester.  It  began  at  the  close  of 
the  reign  of  Edward  IV.,  and  was  depending  until  the  begin 
ning  of  that  of  James  I.-,  when  it  was  finally  compounded — 
being  a  period  of  not  less  than  one  hundred  and  twenty 
years  !  In  the  United  States  there  was  a  case  recently 
determined,  which  had  been  pending  three  years,  before  the 
courts  in  Wyoming  county,  New  York.  It  was  a  suit  to 
recover  $25,  the  amount  of  a  note  given  :  the  verdict  was 
ultimately  rendered  for  the  plaintiff  in  amount  claimed,  with 
the  modest  item  of  costs  of  $800  ! 

Lord  Brougham,  in  his  celebrated  speech  on  law  reform, 
when  he  had  not  the  hope  of  the  chancellorship,  or  the  fear  of 
fickle  fortune  before  his  eyes,  described  the  law  as  intended  to 
be — "  the  staff  of  honesty  and  the  shield  of  innocence  ;"  but  he 
added,  that  ''  it  actually  is  a  two-edged  sword  of  craft  and 
oppression."  JEsop  has  a  fable  to  the  effect  that  a  swallow 
built  her  nest  under  the  eaves  of  a  court  of  justice.  Before 
her  young  brood  could  fly,  a  serpent  glided  out  of  his  hole  aud 
devoured  them  up. 

*  Tin  Trumpet. 


THE      HUMORS      OF      L  A  "W  .  255 


The  lawyer  has  frequent  opportunities  for  indulging  eccen 
tricity  and  humor.  We  offer  a  specimen  or  two  : 

Counsellor  Lamb,  an  old  man  when  Lord  Erskine  was  at 
the  height  of  his  reputation,  was  a  man  of  timid  manners  and 
nervous  temperament  ;  and  usually  prefaced  his  plea  with  an 
apology  to  that  effect.  Ou  one  occasion,  when  opposed  to 
Erskine,  he  happened  to  remark  that  he  felt  himself  grow 
ing  more  and  more  timid  as  he  grew  older.  "No  won 
der,"  replied  the  witty,  but  relentless  barrister,  "every  one 
knows  that  the  older  a  lamb  grows,  the  more  sheepish  he 
becomes." 

Sergeant  Prime — on  a  certain  occasion,  when  the  weather 
was  intensely  hot,  and  the  court  densely  crowded,  the  case 
being  one  of  more  than  ordinary  interest — made  a  speech 
of  three  hours'  duration,  whose  soporific  influence,  aided  by  the 
oppressive  atmosphere  of  the  court,  caused  a  boy,  who  had 
seated  himself  on  a  transverse  beam  over  the  heads  of  the 
spectators,  to  fall,  not  only  asleep,  but  also  on  the  people 
below.  His  own  injuries  were  unimportant,  but  several  indivi 
duals  in  court  were  seriously  hurt  :  and  as  the  blame  was  laid 
upon  the  prosy  counsel's  long  yarn,  he  was  tried  at  the  circuit 
table,  found  guilty,  and  sentenced  to  pay  a  fine  of  three  dozen 
of  wine,  which  he  did  without  wincing  or  complaining.  As  an 
instance  of  noble  independence  of  character,  we  might  refer  to 
the  incident  recorded  of  the  celebrated  Lord  Chancellor 
Thurlow.  As  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Peers,  he  was  distin 
guished  for  the  dignity  with  which  he  enforced  the  rules  of 
debate.  Upon  one  occasion  he  called  the  Duke  of  Grafton  to 
order,  who,  incensed  at  the  interruption,  insolently  reproached 
the  chanc-'llor  with  his  plebeian  origin,  and  recent  admission 
into  the  peerage.  Previous  to  this  time,  Thurlow  had  spoken 
so  frequently  that  he  was  listened  to  by  the  House  with 
evident  impatience.  When  the  duke  had  concluded  his  speech, 
his  lordship  arose  from  the  woolsack,  and  advanced  slowly  to 
the  place  from  whence  the  chancellor  generally  addresses  the 


256  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


assembled  peers  ;  then  fixing  upon  the  duke  the  look  one  may 
suppose  Jove  to  have  assumed  as  he  grasped  the  thunder — "  I 
am  amazed,"  he  said,  "at  the  attack  which  the  noble  lord  has 
made  upon  me;  yes,  my  lords,  I  repeat,  I  am  amazed  at  his 
grace's  speech,"  his  voice  and  manner  still  increasing  iu 
earnestness  ;-"  the  duke  cannot  look  before  him,  behind  him, 
or  on  either  side  of  him,  without  seeing  some  noble  peer  who 
owes  his  seat  in  this  House  to  his  successful  exertions  in  the 
profession  to  which  I  belong.  Does  he  not  feel  that  it  is  as 
honorable  to  owe  it  to  these,  as  to  being  the  accident  of  an 
accident  ?  To  all  these  noble  lords,  the  language  of  the  noble 
duke  is  as  applicable  and  as  insulting  as  it  is  to  myself ;  but 
I  do  not  fear  to  meet  it  singly  and  alone.  Xo  one  venerates 
the  peerage  more  than  I  do  ;  but,  my  lords,  I  must  say  the 
peerage  solicited  me,  not  I  the  peerage.  Nay  more,  I  can  say, 
and  will  say,  that,  as  a  peer  of  Parliament,  as  Speaker  of  this 
right  honorable  House,  as  keeper  of  the  Great  Seal,  as  guar 
dian  of  his  majesty's  conscience,  as  Lord  High  Chancellor  of 
England,  nay,  even  in  that  character  alone  in  which  his  grace 
would  think  it  an  affront  to  be  considered,  but  which  none  can 
deny  me — as  a  man — I  am  at  this  moment  as  respectable — I 
beg  leave  to  add,  I  am  at  this  moment  as  much  respected — us 
the  proudest  peer  I  now  look  down  upon."  The  effect  of  this 
speech,  both  within  and  without  the  walls  of  Parliament,  was 
prodigious;  it  gave  Lord  Thurlow  an  ascendency  in  the  House, 
unsurpassed  by  any  previous  incumbent  of  the  woolsack,  and 
has  placed  him  iu  a  no  less  plausible  aspect  with  the  people  of 
all  times  and  all  political  creeds.  Not  only  was  this  worthy 
representative  of  the  high  court  of  equity  a  most  convivial  ban 
vivant,  he  was,  also,  in  the  popular  acceptation  of  the  term,  a 
wit.  As  brevity  is  said  to  be  the  soul  of  the  article  aforesaid, 
we  present  the  reader  with  the  following  small  dose.  Once  at 
table,  Pitt  was  expatiating  on  the  superiority  of  the  Latin  over 
the  English  language,  and  cited  as  an  instance,  the  fact  that 
two  negatives  made  a  thing  more  positive  than  one  jimVmative 


THE      HUMORS     OF     LAW.  25*7 


could  do.  "  Then  your  father  and  mother  !"  exclaimed 
Thurlow,  in  his  usual  gruff  style,  "  must  have  been  themselves 
two  negatives,  to  have  introduced  such  a  positive  fellow  as  you 
are."  Thurlow,  in  law,  has  been  regarded  something  in  the 
same  light  with  Abernethy  in  physic;  very  rough,  rude,  and 
even  insolent — a  feature  that  tarnished  his  reputation,  and 
which  ultimately  was  the  cause  of  his  being  deprived  of  the 
chancellorship. 

The  following  characteristic  notice  of  his  lordship's  irreligious 
tendencies,  and  we  take  our  leave  of  him.  His  brother,  the 
bishop  of  Durham,  possessed  but  slender  influence  over  him  in 
this  respect,  for,  in  seeking  to  vindicate  his  character  before 
some  company  on  one  occasion,  he  had  to  admit  that  his  appeals 
to  the  Divine  Being  were  only  audible  when  suffering  from 
acute  twinges  of  that  fashionable,  but  by-no-means-to-be- 
coveted  complaint,  the  gout  ! 

We  have  already  referred  to  Chancellor  Eldon,  no  less 
renowned  for  his  doubting  propensity.  Man-y  were  the  squibs, 
in  prose  and  verse,  of  which  this  Fabius  of  Chancellors  was  the 
subject.  To  one,  by  Sir  George  Rose,  a  happy  retort  was 
made  by  his  lordship,  as  seen  in  the  subjoined  extract : — 

"Sir  George  Rose,  when  at  the  bar,  having  the  note-book 
of  the  regular  reporter  of  Lord  Eldon's  decisions  put  into 
his  hand,  with  a  request  that  he  would  take  a  note  for  him 
of  any  decision  which  should  be  given,  entered  in  it  the  fol 
lowing  lines,  as  a  full  record  of  all  that  was  material  which 
had  occurred  during  the  day  : 

Mr.  Leach 
Made  a  speech, 

Angry,  neat,  but  wrong  ; 

Mr.  Hart, 

On  the  other  part, 

Was  heavy,  dull,  and  long  : 


258  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


Mr.  Parker 

Made  the  case  darker, 

Which  was  dark  enough  without : 

Mr.  Cooke 
Cited  his  hook, 

And  the  Chancellor  said — '  I  DOUBT/ 

This  jeu  d'esprit,  flying  about  Westminster  Hnll,  at  length 
reached  the  Chancellor,  who  was  much  amused  with  it,  not 
withstanding  its  personal  allusion.  Soon  after,  Rose  having 
to  argue  before  him  a  very  untenable  proposition,  the  chancel 
lor  gave  his  opinion  very  gravely,  thus  :  '  for  these  reasons, 
the  judgment  must  be  ag.iinst  your  clients  ;  and  here,  Mr.  Rose, 
the  Chancellor  DOES  NOT  DOUBT.'  " 

Mr.  Plunkett,  while  pleading  one  day,  observing  the  hour  to 
be  late,  said  it  was  his  wish  to  proceed  with  the  trial,  if  the 
ury  would  set.  "  Sit,  sir,1'  said  the  judge,  correcting  him, 
"not  set  ;  hens  set."  "I  thank  you,  my  lord,"  was  the  reply. 
Shortly  after,  the  judge  had  occasion  to  observe,  "  that  if  such 
were  the  case,  he  feared  the  action  would  not  lay."  "  Lie,  my 
lord,"  said  the  barrister,  "  not  lay  ;  hens  /«//." 

Lord  Kenyon's  classical  acquirements  are  well  known  to  have 
been  but  slender.  He  was  nevertheless  exceedingly  fond  of 
ornamenting  his  judgments  with  Latin  quotations,  which  did 
not  always  fall  exactly  into  their  right  places.  Upon  one 
occasion,  he  is  said  to  have  concluded  his  summing  up  in  the 
following  manner  :  "  Having  thus  discharged  your  consciences, 
gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you  may  retire  to  your  homes  and  your 
hearths  in  peace  ;  and,  with  the  delightful  consciousness  of 
having  well  performed  your  duties  as  citizens,  you  may  lay 
down  your  heads  upon  your  pillo\vs,  and  say,  aut  Casar  ant 
nullus  /"  Upon  another  occasion,  his  Lordship,  wishing  to 
illustrate  in  a  strong  manner  the  conclusiveness  of  some  fact, 
thus  addressed  the  jury  :  "  Why,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  it  is 
as  plain  as  the  noses  upon  your  faces  ! — Latet  anguis  in  herbd  f 


THE      HUMORS      OF      LAW.  259 


To  refrain  from  multiplying  instances  of  the  ludicrous  in  law 
is,  indeed,  no  easy  matter  ;  since  the  recollection  of  the  names, 
even,  of  prominent  members  of  the  Irish  bar  are  so  suggestive 
of  fun.  Who  can  think  of  Philpott,  Shiel,  Currau,  aud  Xor- 
bury,  without  recollecting  their  jokes  ? 

Cnrran's  versatile  and  ready  wit  has  long  been  proverbial  ; 
like  Lord  Xorbury,  his  name  has  been  classed  among  those  of 
Volfiire,  Swift.,  and  the  humorists  of  their  day.  One  or  two 
instances  will  suffice. 

Mr.  Curran  was  engaged  in  a  legal  argument;  behind  him 
stood  his  colleague,  a  gentleman  whose  person  was  remark 
ably  tall  and  slender,  and  who  had  originally  intended  to  take 
orders.  The  judge  observing  that  the  case  under  discussion 
involved  a  question  of  ecclesiastical  law — ''Then,"  said  Curran, 
"  I  can  refer  your  lordship  to  a  high  authority  behind  me, 
who  was  once  intended  for  the  church,  though  in  my  opinion 
he  was  fitter  for  the  steeple." 

"  No  man,"  said  a  wealthy  but  weak-headed  barrister, 
"  should  be  admitted  to  the  bar,  who  has  not  an  independent 
landed  property.''  "  May  I  ask,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Curran,  "  how 
many  acres  make  a  wise-acre  ?"  "  Could  you  not  have  known 
this  boy  to  be  my  son,  from  his  resemblance  to  me  ?"  asked  a 
gentleman.  Mr.  Curran  answered,  "  Yes,  sir,  the  maker's 
name  is  stamped  upon  the  blade."  Mr.  Curran  being  asked, 
"  what  an  Irish  gentleman,  just  arrived  in  England,  could  mean 
by  perpetually  putting  out  his  tongue?"  answered,  '•  I  suppose 
he's  trying  to  catch  the  English  accent." 

One  of  the  eminent  British  lawyers  was  engaged,  some 
time  since,  to  defend  an  Irishman,  who  had  been  charged 
with  theft.  Assuming  the  prerogative  of  his  position,  the 
counsel,  in  a  private  interview  with  his  client,  said  to  him, 
"  Now,  Patrick,  as  I  am  to  defend  you,  I  want  you  to  tell  me 
frankly  whether  you  are  guilty  or  not.  Did  you  steal  the 
goods?"  "Faith,  then,"  said  Pat,  "I  s'pose  I  must  tell  yez. 
In  troth,  I  did  stale  'em  !"  ''  Then  you  ought  to  be  ashamed 


260  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


of  yourself,  to  come  here  and  disgrace  your  country  by  steal 
ing  !"  said  the  honest  counsel.  "  In  troth,  sir,  may-be  I  ought  ; 
but  then,  if  I  didn't  stale,  you  wouldn't  have  the  honor  and 
credit  of  getting  me  off  !" 

It  will  be  remembered  a  curious  instance    occurred,  of  a 

• 

witness  confounding  a  counsel,  at  Gloucester,  England,  some 
years  ago.  The  witness  on  being  asked  his  name,  gave  it 
Ottiwell  Woodd.  He  pronounced  it  hurriedly  several  times, 
as  the  learned  counsel  did  not  seem  to  catch  it.  "  Spell  it,  sir, 
if  you  please,"  he  said,  somewhat  angrily  ;  the  witness  com 
plied  thus  :  "0,  tt,  i,  w,  e,  11,  W,  oo,  dd."  The  spelling  more 
confounded  the  counsel  than  ever,  and  in  his  confusion,  amid 
the  riotous  laughter  of  the  court,  he  took  the  witness  aside,  to 
help  him  to  spell  it  after  him. 

In  the  Life  of  OConnell,  we  find  several  piquant  and 
amusing  anecdotes  of  that  great  representative  of  Repeal. 
We  have  heard  him  speak  in  the  British  House  of  Commons, 
and  can  readily  imagine  how  much  of  the  spirit  of  his  humor  is 
lost  in  its  being  retailed.  He  was  once  examining  a  witness, 
whose  inebriety,  at  the  time  to  which  the  evidence  referred,  it 
was  essential  to  his  client's  case  to  prove.  He  quickly  dis 
covered  the  man's  character.  He  was  a  fellow  who  may  be 
described  as  "  half-foolish  with  roguery."  "  Well,  Darby,  you 
told  the  truth  to  this  gentleman  ?"  "  Yes,  your  honor,  Coun 
sellor  O'Connell."  "  How  do  you  know  my  name  ?"  "  Ah  I 
sure  every  one  knows  our  own  pathriot."  "Well,  you  are  a 
good-humored,  honest  fellow  ;  now  tell  me,  Darby,  did  you 
take  a  drop  of  anything  that  day?"  "Why,  your  honor,  I 
took  my  share  of  a  pint  of  spirits."  "  Your  share  of  it  ;  now, 
by  virtue  of  your  oath,  was  not  your  share  of  it  all  but  the 
pewter?"  "  Why,  then,  dear  knows,  that's  true  for  you,  sir." 
The  court  was  convulsed  at  both  question  and  answer. 

Here  is  an  ins'tauce  of  his  ready  tact  and  infinite  resource  in 
the  defence  of  his  client.  In  a  trial  at  Cork  for  murder,  the 
principal  witness  swore  strongly  against  the  prisoner.  He 


THE      HUMORS     OF      LAW.  261 


particularly  swore  that  a  hat,  found  near  the  place  of  the  mur 
der,  belonged  to  the  prisoner,  whose  name  was  James.  "  By 
virtue  of  your  oath,  are  you  sure  that  this  is  the  same  hat  ?" 
"Yes."  "  Did  you  examine  it  carefully  before  you  swore,  in 
your  information,  that  it  was  the  prisoner's  ?"  "  I  did."  "  Xow 
let  me  see,"  said  O'Connell,  as  he  took  up  the  hat  and  began 
to  examine  it  carefully  in  the  inside.  He  then  spelled  aloud  the 
name  of  James,  slowly,  and  repeated  the  question  as  to  whe 
ther  the  hat  contained  the  name  ;  when  the  respondent 
promptly  replied,  "It  did."  "Now,  my  lord,"  said  O'Conuell, 
holding  up  the  hat  to  the  bench,  "there  is  an  end  of  the  case 
— there  is  no  name  whatever  inscribed  in  the  hat."  The  result 
was  an  instant  acquittal. 

The  following  anecdote  of  two  eminent  pleaders,  Pinckney 
and  Emmet,  we  copy  from  the  Knickerbocker :  it  is  an  admira 
ble  rebuke  upon  those  who  suppose  that  irony,  sarcasm,  and 
invective  constitute  the  essentials  of  forensic  eloquence. 

"  We  do  not  know  when  we  have  encountered  a  more  forcible 
exemplification  of  the  truth,  '  that  a  soft  answer  turneth  away 
wrath,'  than  is  afforded  in  the  ensuing  anecdote  :  On  one  occa 
sion  in  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  the  eloquent 
Irish  exile,  Emmet,  and  the  distinguished  orator,  Pinckney, 
were  on  opposite  sides  in  an  important  cause,  and  one  which 
the  latter  had  much  at  heart.  In  the  course  of  the  argument, 
he  made  some  offensive  personal  observations  on  Emmet,  with 
a  view  of  irritating  him,  and  weakening  his  reply.  Emmet 
sat  quiet  and  endured  it  all.  It  seemed  to  have  sharpened 
his  intellect,  without  having  irritated  his  temper.  When 
the  argument  was  finished,  he  said  :  '  Perhaps  he  ought  to 
notice  the  remarks  of  the  opposite  counsel,  but  this  was  a  spe 
cies  of  warfare  in  which  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  have  little 
experience,  and  one  in  which  he  never  dealt —  he  was  willing 
that  his  learned  opponent  should  have  all  the  advantages  he 
promised  himself  from  the  display  of  his  talents  in  that  way. 
When  he  came  to  this  country  he  was  a  stranger,  and  was  happy 


262  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


to  say,  that  from  the  bar  generally,  and  the  court  universally, 
he  had  experienced  nothing  but  politeness,  and  even  kindness. 
He  believed  the  court  would  do  him  the  justice  to  say  that  he 
had  said  or  done  nothing  in  this  cause  to  merit  a  different 
treatment.  He  had  always  been  accustomed  to  admire  and 
even  reverence  the  learning  and  eloquence  of  Mr.  Pinckney,  and 
he  was  the  last  man  from  whom  he  should  have  expected  per 
sonal  observations  of  the  sort  the  court  had  just  witnessed.  He 
had  been  in  early  life  taught  by  the  highest  authority  not  to 
return  railing  for  railing.  He  would  only  say  that  he  had  been 
informed  that  the  learned  gentleman  had  filled  the  highest  office 
his  country  could  bestow  at  the  court  of  St.  James.  He  was 
very  sure  that  he  had  not  learned  his  breeding  in  that  school.' 

"  The  court  and  the  bar  were  delighted;  for  Mr.  Pinckney  was 
apt  to  be  occasionally  a  little  too  overbearing.  When  we  take 
into  consideration  the  merit  of  resistance  against  the  natural 
impulse  of  a  warm  Irish  temperament,  we  must  admire  still  more 
the  manner  adopted  by  Mr.  Emmet.  Mr.  Pinckney  afterwards 
tendered  the  most  ample  apology.  'The  manner,'  said  he,  'in 
which  Mr.  Emmet  has  replied,  reproaches  me  by  its  forbear 
ance  and  urbanity,  and  could  not  fail  to  hasten  the  repentance 
which  reflection  alone  would  have  produced,  and  which  1  am 
glad  to  have  so  public  an  occasion  of  avowing.  I  offer  him  a 
gratuitous  and  cheerful  atonement :  cheerful,  because  it  puts 
me  to  rights  with  myself,  and  because  it  is  tendered,  not  to 
ignorance  and  presumption,  but  to  the  highest  worth,  intellect, 
and  morals,  enhanced  by  such  eloquence  as  few  may  hope  to 
equal  ;  to  an  interesting  stranger  whom  adversity  has  tried,  and 
affliction  struck  severely  to  the  heart  ;  to  an  exile  whom  any 
country  might  be  proud  to  receive,  and  every  man  of  a  generous 
temper  would  be  ashamed  to  offend.' " 

One  or  two  other  amusing  anecdotes  we  are  tempted  here  to 
present.  We  cite  them  from  a  veritable  "  printed  boke,"  and, 
therefore,  need  not  vouch  for  their  authenticity.  A  member 
of  the  bar  in  one  of  the  Eastern  States  had  espoused  the  cause 


THE      HUMORS      OF      LAW.  263 


of  a  man  indicted  for  passing  counterfeit  money.  After  a  long 
and  severely  contested  trial,  the  "  learned  "  gentleman  obtained 
an  acquittal  for  the  prisoner,  who  affecting  an  overwhelming 
sense  of  gratitude,  while  pleading  poverty,  and  the  claims  of  a 
family,  as  an  apology  for  the  smallness  of  the  fee,  took  his  leave 
of  his  legal  friend.  When  the  unsuspecting  counsellor,  attor 
ney,  or  barrister — for  these  terms  are  generally  used  interchange 
ably  in  the  United  States — looked  at  his  fee,  he  found  it  to  be 
of  the  spurious  coin  !  This  is  a  rare  instance  of  a  lawyer 
duped. 

Special  pleaders,  sometimes  resort  to  curious  expedients  for 
producing  an  effect  on  the  sympathies  of  a  jury — a  body  of  men 
distinguished  alike  for  their  acute  sensibilities  and  critical 
sagacity.  In  a  criminal  case,  in  which  the  culprit  was  arraigned 
upon  a  charge  of  manslaughter,  which  seemed  to  bear  very  much 
against  the  prisoner,  the  counsel  held  up  his  little  child,  who 
was  crying  aloud,  as  an  eloquent  appeal  to  the  jury  in  his 
behalf.  This  might  have  answered  very  well,  had  not  one  of 
their  number  put  the  pertinent  question  to  the  youngster,  "  What 
are  you  crying  for  ?"  when  the  artless  reply  was,  "  He  pinched 
me,  sir." 

As  no  one  denies  that  the  bar  has  been  ever  distinguished  for 
eloquence,  it  is  not  needful  for  us  to  cite  a  list  of  luminous  names 
to  prove  the  fact.  Rather  would  we  present  the  following 
curious  case  of  an  attorney,  who  was  possessed  of  a  wonderful 
facility  in  "  facing  both  ways."  A  Scottish  advocate,  we  have 
forgotten  his  name,  having  on  a  certain  occasion  drank 
rather  too  freely,  was  called  on  unexpectedly  to  plead  in  a  cause 
in  which  he  had  been  retained.  The  lawyer  mistook  the  party 
for  whom  he  was  engaged,  and  to  the  great  amazement  of  the 
agent  who  had  feed  him,  and  to  the  absolute  horror  of  the  poor 
client,  who  was  in  court,  he  delivered  a  long  and  fervent  speech, 
directly  opposite  to  the  interests  he  had  been  called  upon  to 
defend  Such  was  his  zeal,  that  no  whispered  remonstrance,  no 
jostling  of  the  elbow,  could  stop  him.  But  just  as  he  was 


264  SALAD   FOR  THE   SOCIAL. 


about  to  sit  down,  the  trembling  client,  in  a  brief  note, 
informed  him  that  he  had  been  pleading  for  the  wrong  party. 
This  intimation,  which  would  have  disconcerted  most  men, 
had  a  very  different  effect  on  the  advocate,  who,  with  an  air 
of  infinite  composure,  resumed  his  oration.  "Such,  my  lords," 
said  he,  "  is  the  statement  which  you  will  probably  hear 
from  my  learned  brother  ou  the  opposite  side  in  this  cause.  I 
shall  now,  therefore,  beg  leave,  in  a  few  word?,  to  show  your 
lordship  how  utterly  untenable  are  the  principles,  and  how  dis 
torted  are  the  facts,  upon  which  this  very  specious  statement 
has  proceeded."  The  learned  gentleman  then  went  over  the 
whole  ground,  and  did  not  take  his  seat  until  he  had  completely 
and  energetically  refuted  the  whole  of  his  former  pleading. 

Law  is  a  very  grave  matter  to  the  client,  but  it  abounds  with 
its  humor,  irony,  sarcasm,  invective,  and  even  scurrility,  for 
the  counsel,  or  at  least  the  special  pleader;  yet  we  are  made  to 
believe  that  all  these  minister  to  the  claims  of  justice,  and  the 
majesty  of  law.  Possibly  it  is  from  this  cause  that  law  has 
been  styled  one  of  the  liberal  professions.  It  is  liberal  in  more 
senses  than  one;  none  will  deny  this  in  respect  of  its  volubility, 
for  when  it  exhausts  the  mother-tongue,  it  then  falls  back  upon 
the  dead  languages;  let  not  the  simple-hearted,  therefore,  be 
deceived  by  the  speciousness  of  a  lawyer's  "  brief." 

We  now  propose  to  notice  some  of  the  peculiarities  of  plead 
ing,  in  connection  with  briefs — those  legal  documentary  papers, 
usually  more  remarkable  for  their  extraordinary  expansion  and 
verbosity  than  anything  else.  In  early  times,  pleading  was  car 
ried  on  without  the  aid  of  briefs. 

Some  one  facetiously  suggests  that  a  briefless  barrister  ought 
never  to  be  blamed,  because  it  is  decidedly  wrong  to  abuse  a  man 
without  a  cause. 

A  lawyer  has  been  compared  to  an  odd  sort  of  fruit — first 
rotten,  then  green,  and  then  ripe.  There  is  no  little  significancy 
in  the  similitude — as  the  history  of  many  a  briefless  barrister 
would  attest,  llow  ofteu,  like  the  medical  practitioner,  has  he 


THE      HUMORS      OF      LAW.  265 


to  suffer  from  long  disappointed  ambition  and  neglect,  while  the 
less  meritorious  are  preferred  as  the  favorites  of  fortune. 
A  brief  has  been  thus  briefly  defined,  an  instrument — 

For  pay.  to  prove  the  honest  man  a  thief, 
For  pay,  to  breajc  the  widow's  heart  with  grief, 
To  stifle  truth,  for  lies  to  gain  belief, 

That's  a  brief! 

Deeds*  are  said  to  be  preferable  to  words;  but  legal  deeds 
are  composed  wholly  of  words;  of — 

Ten  thousand  words,  where  ten  would  serve  the  need, 
Ten  thousand  meanings,  discord  meant  to  breed, 
Where  none  can  understand,  and  few  can  read — 

That's  a  deed. 

"  Oh,  Law  !  There  never  were  such  times  as  these!  A  bar 
rister  could  once  with  ease,  have  got  as  many  fees,  by  merely 
signing  pleas,  as  would  have  given  him  something  more  than 
bread  and  cheese;  but  destiny's  decrees  have  made  it  feasible 
no  more  to  get  such  fees ;  and  if  the  lawyers  please  to  live, 
they  can  no  longer  live  by  pleas." 

Exparte  statements  may,  and  too  often  do,  so  essentially 
violate  truth  and  honesty,  that  it  is  to  be  regretted  the  learned 
members  of  the  bar  of  the  nineteenth  century  are  found  still  so 
strenuously  to  insist  upon  its  adoption  in  legal  process.  Any 
one,  uninitiated,  hearing  for  the  first  time  the  opening  up  of  a 
case,  the  examination  of  a  witness,  or  the  summing  up  of  a 
cause,  would,  doubtless,  be  inclined  to  conclude  that  lawyers 
were  professionally  as  great  strangers  to  veracity  as  the  simple 
Hibernian  was  to  the  public  stocks  :  who,  on  being  asked  if  he 
ever  had  any  money  deposited  there,  admitted  he  never  had, 

*Some  faint  idea  of  the  bulk  of  the  English  records  may  be  obtained  by  adverting  to 
the  fact,  that  a  single  statute,  the  Land  Tax  Commissioners'  Act,  passed  In  the  first  year 
of  the  reign  of  George  IV.,  measures,  when  unrolled,  upwards  of  900  feet,  or  nearly 
twice  the  length  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  within  the  doors;  and  if  ever  it  should  become 
necessary  to  consult  the  fearful  volume,  an  able-bodied  man  must  be  employed  during 
three  hours  in  coifing  and  uncoiling  its  monstrous  folds! 

12 


206  SALAD   FOE   THE   SOCIAL. 


but  confessed  to  having  had  his  legs  there  often  enough  We 
subjoin  one  specimen  of  a  brief. — not  of  the  briefest  kind  it  is 
true,  being  long  enough  and  large  enough  to  suit  the  most 
garrulous  of  the  profession.  It  is  taken  from  Butler's  Remini 
scences  : 

"  The  length  of  legal  instruments  is  often  owing  to  the  neces 
sity  of  providing  for  a  multiplicity  of  contingent  events,  each 
of  which  may  happen,  and  must,  therefore,  be  both  fully 
described,  and  fully  provided  for.  Of  the  nature  and  extent  of 
this  multiplicity,  the  party  himself  is  seldom  aware  ;  sometimes 
even  his  professional  adviser  does  not  feel  it,  until  he  begins  to 
frame  the  necessary  clauses.  A  gentleman,  upon  whose  will 
the  reminiscent  was  consulted,  had  six  estates  of  unequal 
value,  and  wished  to  settle  one  on  each  of  his  sons,  and  his 
male  issue,  with  successive  limitation  over  to  the  other  sons, 
and  their  respective  male  issue,  in  the  ordinary  mode  of  strict 
settlement  ;  and  with  a  provision,  that  in  the  event  of  the  death 
and  failure  of  issue  male  of  any  of  the  sons,  the  estate  devised 
to  him,  should  shift  from  him  and  his  issue  male,  to  the  next 
taker  and  his  issue  male,  and  failing  there,  to  the  person  claim 
ing  under  the  other  limitations.  It  was  considered,  at  first, 
that  this  might  be  effected  by  one  proviso  :  then  by  two,  and 
then  by  six  ;  but  upon  a  full  investigation,  it  was  found  that  it 
required  as  many  provisos  as  there  can  be  combinations  of  the 
number  six  ;  now — 

1X2X3X4X5X6=720; 

Consequently,  to  give  complete  effect  to  the  intention  of  the 
testator,  720  provisos  were  necessary. 

"  By  a  similar  calculation,  if  a  deed,  which  the  reminiscent 
was  instructed  to  prepare,  had  been  executed,  the  expense  of 
the  necessary  stamp  would  have  amounted  to  ninety  millions, 
seven  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  pounds.  Ten  persons, 
each  of  whom  was  possessed  of  landed  property,  having  engaged 
in  a  mining  adventure,  a  deed  of  partnership  was  to  be  pre- 


THE      HUMORS      OF      LAW.  267 


pared,  which  was  to  contain  a  stipulation  that,  if  any  one  or 
more  of  the  intended  partners  should  advance  money  to  another, 
or  others  of  them,  the  money  lent  should  be  a  charge,  in  the 
nature  of  a  mortgage,  upon  the  share  or  respective  shares  of 
the  borrower,  or  respective  borrowers,  and  overreach  all  subse 
quent  charges — and,  therefore,  the  charges  were  to  be  con 
sidered  as  mortgages  actually  made  by  the  deed.  Thus,  in  the 
contemplation  of  equity,  the  estate  was  actually  to  be  subjected 
by  the  deed,  to  as  many  possible  mortgages  as  there  can  be 
combinations  of  the  number  10.  Each  of  these  possible  mort 
gages,  being  for  an  indefinite  sum,  would  require  the  £25 
stamp. 

25X2X3X4X5X6X7X8X9X10=90,720,000. 

Sterne  insinuates  that  attorneys  are  to  lawyers  what 
apothecaries  are  to  physicians — only  that  they  do  not  deal  in 
scruples ! 

One  day  at  the  table  of  the  late  Dr.  Pearse  (Dean  of  Ely), 
just  as  the  cloth  was  being  removed,  the  subject  of  discourse 
happened  to  be  that  of  an  extraordinary  mortality  among  the 
lawyers.  "  We  have  lost,"  said  a  gentleman,  "  not  less  than 
six  eminent  barristers  in  as  many  mouths."  The  Dean,  who 
was  quite  deaf,  rose  as  his  friend  finished  his  remarks,  and  gave 
the  company  grace  :  "For  this  and  every  other  mercy,  the  Lord's 
name  be  praised  !"  The  effect  was  irresistible. 

Having  referred  to  briefs,  we  are  reminded  of  the  opposite. 
We  have  not  dilated  upon  "the  law's  delay."  The  topic  is, 
however,  too  trite  to  talk  about — let  an  instance  suffice. 

About  a  hundred  years  ago,  a  Scotch  gentleman  bequeathed 
to  his  "  poor  relations,  of  whatever  degree,"  the  sum  of 
£20,000.  In  effect,  he  left  them  a  Chancery  suit,  which  has 
remained  in  the  family  ever  since.  In  the  first  place,  the  next 
of  kin  disputed  the  validity  of  the  bequest,  but  it  was 
established  by  Lord  Chancellor  Camden,  and  463  persons  made 
out  their  relationship.  Thereupon,  in  the  year  1166,  a  bill 


268  SALAD   FOR  THE   SOCIAL. 


was  filed  for  the  distribution  of  the  money  amongst  them, 
which  has  not  been  effected  to  this  day. 

A  yet  stranger  case  was  that  of  the  famous  "  Berkeley  suit," 
which  lasted  upwards  of  190  years  !  It  was  commenced 
shortly  after  the  death  of  the  fourth  Lord  Berkeley  in  1416,  and 
terminated  in  1609.  It  arose  out  of  the  marriage  of  Elizabeth, 
only  daughter  and  heiress  of  the  above  baron,  with  Richard 
Beauchamp,  Earl  of  Warwick,  their  descendants  having  con 
tinually  sought  to  get  possession  of  the  Castle  and  Lordship 
of  Berkeley,  which  not  only  occasioned  the  famous  lawsuit  in 
question,  but  was  often  attended  with  the  most  violent  quarrels 
on  both  sides,  at  least  during  the  first  fifty  years  or  more. 

We  have  at  our  hand  a  case,  and  as  it  is  a  very  striking  one, 
we  may  as  well  introduce  it  with  the  view  of  adding  force  to 
our  observations  : 

A  lawyer,  retained  in  a  case  of  assault  and  battery,  was 
cross-examining  a  witness  in  relation  to  the  force  of  a  blow 
struck  :  "  What  kind  of  a  blow  was  given?"  "  A  blow  of 
the  common  kind."  "  Describe  the  blow."  "  I  am  not  good 
at  description."  "Show  me  what  kind  of  a  blow  it  was."  "  I 
cannot."  "  You  must."  "  I  won't."  The  lawyer  appealed 
to  the  court.  The  court  told  the  witness  that  if  the  counsel 
insisted  upon  his  showing  what  kind  of  a  blow  it  was,  he  must 
do  so.  "  Do  you  insist  upon  it  ?"  asked  the  witness.  "  I  do." 
"  Well,  then,  since  you  compel  me  to  show  you,  it  was  this 
kind  of  a  blow  !"  at  the  same  time  suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  and  knocking  over  the  astonished  disciple  of  Coke  upon 
Littleton. 

In  this  connection  we  have  yet  another  case  to  present,  in 
which  the  irritating  and  too  irritable  counsel  was  completely 
nonplussed.  It  is  as  follows  : 

"  I  call  upon  you,"  said  the  counsellor,  "to  state  distinctly 
upon  what  authority  you  are  prepared  to  swear  to  the  mare's 
age  ?"  "  Upon  what  authority  ?"  said  the  ostler,  interroga 
tively.  "  You  are  to  reply  to,  and  not  to  repeat  the  questions 


THE      HUMORS      OF      LAW.  269 


put  to  you."  "  I  doesn't  consider  a  man's  bound  to  answer  a 
question  afore  he's  time  to  turn  it  in  his  mind."  "  Nothing 
can  be  more  simple,  sir,  than  the  question  put.  I  again  repeat 
it  :  Upon  what  authority  do  you  swear  to  the  animal's  age  ?" 
"The  best  authority/''  responded  the  witness,  gruffly.  "Then 
why  such  evasion  ?  Why  not  state  it  at  once  ?"  "  Well, 
then,  if  you  must  have  it." — "Must  !  I  will  have  it,"  vocife 
rated  the  counsellor,  interrupting  the  witness.  "  Well,  then, 
if  you  must  and  will  have  it,"  rejoined  the  ostler,  with  imper 
turbable  gravity,  "  why,  then,  I  had  it  myself  from  the  mare's 
own  mouth."  A  simultaneous  burst  of  laughter  rang  through 
the  court  The  judge,  on  the  bench,  could  with  difficulty 
restrain  his  risible  muscles  to  judicial  decorum. 

Our  readers  may  remember  the  story  of  the  two  Irish  friends, 
who,  from  long  practice,  arrived  at  great  proficiency  in  the 
science  of  unlawfully  abstracting  their  neighbor's  property, 
and  were  not  only  true  to  the  old  maxim  of  "  honor  among 
thieves,"  but  evinced  an  ingenuity  and  skill  worthy  of  a  better 
cause.  One,  having  appropriated  a  goose,  was  on  the  point 
of  being  condemned  by  a  jury  for  theft,  when  the  friend 
appeared  and  swore  that  the  bird  was  his,  and  had  been  ever 
since  it  was  a  gosling,  and  the  prisoner  on  this  was  acquitted. 
Afterwards,  in  the  course  of  his  calling,  the  ingenious  witness 
Was  himself  arraigned  for  stealing  a  gun.  "  Don't  be  onaisey," 
whispered  the  former  culprit,  u  I'll  relase  ye."  Thereupon  he 
stepped  into  the  witness-box,  and  boldly  affirmed  that  the  gun 
was  his,  and  that  it  had  been  in  his  possession  ever  since  it  had 
been  a  pistol. 

An  expose  of  the  tender  passion  often  occurs,  which  the 
papers  recite  with-  heightening  effect,  so  that  we  are  not  called 
upon  to  say  much  on  that  subject  ;  but  as  we  have  a  sample 
of  that  kind  which  is  short  and  sweet,  we  place  it  before  the 
reader.  In  the  Sheriff's  Court,  London,  recently,  a  Miss 
Rogers  obtained  £64  damages  against  a  certain  swain,  bearing 
the  suspicious  name  of  Bachelor,  for  breach  of  promise  of 


2*70  SALAD      FOR     THK      SOCIAL. 


marriage.  A  number  of  the  defendant's  love  letters  were 
produced,  in  which  the  fluctuations  of  his  love  were  very 
amusingly  exhibited.  His  first  epistles  terminated  with, 
"Yours,  J.  B. ;"  then  fired  up  to  "My  ever  dearest  Maria  ;" 
afterwards  they  softened  into  "  My  Darling  ;"  then  cooled  into 
"  Dear  Maria  ;"  then  formalized  into  "  Dear  Miss  Rogers  ;" 
and  broke  off  with  the  following  announcement  : — "  You  wish 
to  know  how  I  intend  to  settle  ;  all  I  can  say  is,  that  I  cannot 
be  more  settled  than  I  am." 

It  is  reported  of  Caligula  that  he  caused  the  laws  of  Rome 
to  be  written  in  small  characters,  and  stuck  up  so  high  that 
the  citizens  could  not  read  them  ;  with  the  same  intent  and 
motive,  it  might  be  supposed,  that  our  modern  legislators  and 
lawyers  are  actuated  by — namely,  the  placing  their  sage  edicts 
above  the  apprehension  of  common  minds,  or  at  any  rate  beyond 
their  reach  for  any  available  purposes.  A  facetious  writer  has 
given  the  following  analysis  of  a  law,  and  with  it  we  may  as 
well  close  our  rambling  essay  :  "  In  the  first  place  it  is  decla 
ratory  ;  in  the  second,  it  is  directory  ;  in  the  third,  it  is 
remedial  ;  and  in  the  fourth,  it  is  vindicatory.  The  declaratory 
says  so  and  so  is  wrong,  and  the  directory  says  immediately  it 
shall  not  be  done  ;  but  it  sometimes  contrives  to  say  so  in  such 
very  civil  and  mysterious  terms  as  to  leave  people  in  doubt 
whether  they  may  do  a  thing  or  not,  until  they  find  all  of  # 
sudden  they  are  put  in  possession  of  its  true  meaning,  and 
punished  into  the  bargain  for  their  obtuseness  in  not  having 
been  able  to  understand  it  before.  It  is  remedial,  for  it  gives 
a  remedy  ;  thus,  if  you  are  deprived  of  your  rights  you  have 
the  remedy  of  a  law-suit,  which  is  a  great  luxury,  and  it 
must  be  admitted,  an  expensive  one.  It  is  also  vindicatory, 
for  it  attaches  a  penalty — and  such  is  the  majesty  of  law,  that, 
whether  right  or  wrong,  he  is  sure  to  have  to  bear  a  portion 
of  the  penalty  who  presumes  in  any  way  to  meddle  witli  it." 
The  rules  for  interpreting  law  are  extremely  arbitrary.  Words 
are  to  be  taken  in  their  popular  sense,  without  regard  to  gram- 


THE      HUMORS      OF      LAW.  271 


mar,  which  is,  of  late,  becoming  a  matter  of  such  trivial 
moment  amongst  us,  that  it  is  hardly  worth  the  noticing. 
Grotius  thought  that  the  penalty  on  crime  was  a  sort  of  tax 
on  sin,  which  some  seem  to  think  might  be  defined  without 
regard  to  syntax. 

There  are  many  antiquated  absurdities  and  heresies,  which 
have  to  be  reformed,  before  our  legal  institutions  can  be 
regarded  as  adapted  to  the  wants  of  the  age.  One  of  the 
absurd  customs  still  in  vogue  in  courts  of  justice,  is  that  of 
inquiring  whether  the  party  arraigned,  is  guilty  or  not  of  the 
offence  alleged  against  him.  This  was  recently  rendered 
ludicrous  by  the  reply  to  the  question  :  "  Guilty  or  not 
guilty  ?"  by  a  native  of  the  Emerald  Isle — "  Just  as  your 
honor  plazes.  It's  not  for  the  likes  o'  me  to  dictate  to  your 
honor's  worship.1' 

The  following  is  an  amusing  anecdote  of  the  well-known 
Cooke,  the  actor  and  musician.  At  a  trial  in  the  Court  of 
King's  Bench,  in  1833,  betwixt  certain  music-publishers  as  to 
an  alleged  piracy  of  an  arrangement  of  the  song  of  The  Old 
English  Gentleman,  Cooke  was  subpoenaed  as  a  witness  by  one 
of  the  parties.  On  his  cross-examination  by  Sir  James  Scarlett, 
afterwards  Lord  Abinger,  for  the  opposite  side,  that  learned 
counsel  questioned  him  thus  : — "  Now,  sir,  you  say  that  the 
two  melodies  are  the  same,  but  different  ;  now  what  do  you 
mean  by  that,  sir  ?"  To  this  Tom  promptly  answered, — "  I 
said  that  the  notes  in  the  two  copies  were  alike,  but  with  a 
different  accent,  the  one  being  in  common  time,  the  other  in 
six-eight  time  ;  and  consequently,  the  position  of  the  accented 
notes  was  different." — "Now,  pray  sir,  don't  beat  about  the 
bush,  but  explain  to  the  jury,  who  are  supposed  to  know 
nothing  about  music,  the  meaning  of  what  you  call  accent." 
Cooke. — "  Accent  in  music  is  a  certain  stress  laid  upon  a  par 
ticular  note,  in  the  same  manner  as  .you  would  lay  a  stress  upon 
any  given  word  for  the  purpose  of  being  better  understood. 
Thus,  if  I  were  to  say,  "you  are  an.  ass,'  it  rests  on  ass  ;  but 


272  8ALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


if  I  were  to  say,  '  You  are  an  ass/  it  rests  011  you,  Sir  James." 
Shouts  of  laughter  by  the  whole  court  followed  this  repartee. 
Silence  at  leugth  having  been  obtained,  the  judge,  with  much 
seeming  gravity,  accosted  the  counsel  thus  :  "  Are  you  satis 
fied,  Sir  James  ?"  Sir  James  (who  had  become  scarlet  in  more 
than  name),  in  a  great  huff,  said — "The  witness  may  go 
down." 

We  close  our  desultory  chapter,  by  citing  a  paragraph  from 
the  author  of  "  Companions  of  my  Solitude,"  because  it  reca 
pitulates,  in  brief,  the  "law  points"  most  vulnerable. 

"  What  a  loss  is  there — of  time,  of  heart,  of  love,  of  leisure. 
The  myriad  oppressions  and  vexations  of  law.  There  are  many 
things  done  now  in  the  law,  at  great  expense,  by  private  indi 
viduals,  which  ought  to  be  done  for  all  by  officers  of  the  State. 
It  is  as  if  each  individual  had  to  make  a  road  for  himself 
whenever  he  went  out,  instead  of  using  '  the  King's  highway.' 
I  do  not  know  a  meaner  and  sadder  portion  of  a  man's  existence, 
or  one  more  likely  to  be  full  of  impatient  sorrow,  than  that 
which  he  spends  at  the  offices  of  lawyers.  Many  of  the 
adjuncts  and  circumstances  of  law  are  made  to  retain,  for 
the  sake  of  mystery,  its  uncouth  form  and  size  of  deeds,  its 
antiquated  words,  and  unusual  character  of  hand-writing. 
Physicians'  prescriptions  may  have  a  better  effect  for  being 
expressed  mysteriously,  but  legal  matters  cannot  surely  be 
made  too  clear,  even  in  the  merest  minutiae." 

After  all  we  have  to  urge  against  the  law,  we  beg  to 
acknowledge  allegiance  to  its  high  authority  ;  and,  as  to 
its  administrators,  let  the  words  of  an  old  epigram  speak 
for  us  : 

When  we've  nothing  to  dread  from  the  law's  sternest  frowns, 
We  all  laugh  at  the  barrister's  wigs,  bags,  and  gowns  ; 
But  as  soon  as  \ve  want  them  to  sue  or  defend, 
Then  their  laughter  begins,  and  our  mirth's  at  an  end. 


(v—--^.-^ 


THE   MUTE    CREATION.* 

"  Know'st  thou  not 

Their  language  and  their  ways?     Tiiey  also  know 
And  reason  not  contemptibly." 

MlLTOS. 

THE  reasoning  faculty  in  man  is  supposed  to  be  the  proud 
prerogative  which  confers  his  preeminent  distinction  in  the 
scale  of  being;  to  institute  a  comparison,  therefore,  between  it 
and  the  instincts  of  the  inferior  creation  may  well  excite  sur 
prise,  and  possibly  be  deemed  incongruous,  if  not  absurd.  The 
inculcation  of  moral  precept  in  the  form  of  fable,  dates  as  far 
back  as  the  days  of  ^Esop ;  and  this  favorite  expedient — so 
attractive  and  suggestive — has  ever  since  been  regarded  as 
equally  poetic,  elegant,  and  impressive.  Need  we  higher 
authority  for  its  adoption,  it  may  be  found  among  the  earliest 
records  of  the  sacred  canon:  "Ask  now  the  beasts,  and  they 

*  A  term  originating  with  Lord  Erskine,  as  a  substitute  for   the   phrase  "brute 
.creation." 


274  SALAD   FOR   THE   SOCIAL. 


shall  teach  thee;  and  the  fowls  of  the  air,  and  they  shall  tell 
thee;"  while,  in  other  passages,  we  are  instructed  to  gather 
lessons  from  the  lilies  of  the  field,  and  to  take  example 
from  the  industry  of  the  seemingly  insignificant  insects. 
But  "  creation's  lord  " — the  "  paragon  of  animals,"  blinded 
by  the  consciousness  of  his  boasted  superiority  of  intellect, 
renders  himself  inaccessible  to  the  gentle  teachings,  the  silent, 
though  eloquent  persuasions  of  Nature's  voice.  We  propose 
to  refer  to  some  facts  illustrative  of  the  beauty  and  worth  of 
the  moral  virtues,  deduced  from  this  source. 

Instinct  seems  to  be  the  incipient  state  of  reason,  although 
the  instinctive  sensations  of  which  animals  are  the  subjects  can 
not  be  properly  classed  in  the  same  category  with  the  ideas  or 
the  rationative  process  of  the  human  mind.  Here  is  the 
dividing  line  between  instinct  and  reason,  and  yet  it  is  difficult 
for  the  metaphysician  to  define  the  boundaries  of  each,  since, 
as  in  the  several  kingdoms  of  nature — animal,  vegetable, 
mineral — they  seem  to  commingle  where  they  unite. 

A  German  author*  thus  writes  on  this  subject: 

"  In  taking  a  review  of  most,  if  not  all,  of  the  actions  of  the 
animal  world,  it  must  be  obvious  that,  whether  we  allow  them 
reason  or  not,  the  actions  themselves  comprehend  those  elements 
of  reason,  so  to  speak,  which  we  commonly  refer  to  rational 
beings.  So  that  if  the  same  actions  had  been  done  by  our 
fellow-creatures,  we  should  have  ascribed  them  without  hesitation 
to  motives  and  feelings  worthy  of  a  rational  nature.  It  is 
certain  that  most  animals,  in  their  several  rational  acts,  show 
every  outward  sign  of  consciousness  or  knowledge  of  the  end 
of  their  actions  ,  not  like  the  fixed  and  uninformed  operations 
of  instinct,  which  is  wholly  employed  in  their  self-preservation, 
or  in  providing  for  their  young. 

"  If  we  compare  our  own  mental  constitution  with  that  of 
brutes,  however  we  may  excel  them,  as  we  certainly  do,  in  some 
noble  capacities  and  principles,  exclusively  belonging  to  our 

*  Schleiden. 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  275 


moral  nature,  yet  we  possess  many  faculties  and  powers 
precisely  analogous  to  theirs;  and  tire  motives  and  combined 
operations  of  these,  it  is  often  as  difficult  to  understand  as  it  is 
those  of  the  lower  animals." 

The  reason  of  animals,  it  has  been  urged,  is  limited  to  memory 
enlightened  by  experience;  the  intelligence  of  man,  on  the 
contrary,  is  unrestricted  and  free.  This  constitutes  his  supe 
riority. 

The  peculiarites  and  habits  of  animals  constitute  a  theme 
rife  with  interest.  In  Buck's  "  Beauties  of  Nature,"  we  find 
many  curious  and  important  facts  recorded,  some  of  which  ex 
hibit  a  striking  analogy  between  the  characteristics  of  man  and 
those  of  animals.  "  Thus  in  the  jay  we  may  trace  the  petulant 
airs  of  a  coquette;  in  the  magpie,  the  restlessness,  flippancy, 
and  egotistical  obtrusiveness  of  the  gallant;  while  the  green 
macaw  is  the  perfect  emblem  of  a  suspicious  and  jealous  spouse; 
for  if  its  master's  caresses  are  transferred  to  a  dog,  a  cat,  a 
bird,  or  even  a  child,  nothing  can  exceed  its  anxiety  and  fury, 
nor  will  it  be  appeased  till  he  forsakes  the  new  favorite  and 
returns  to  it.  Envious  men  and  calumniating  women  we  may 
compare  to  the  porcupine  and  the  secretary-bird;  and  the 
selfish  will  find  their  type  in  the  rhinoceros,  since  it  is  said  to 
be  incapable  either  of  gratitude  or  attachment;  while  the 
inebriate  may  also  be  classed  with  the  rougette  bat,  whose 
propensity  to  become  intoxicated  with  the  juice  of  the  palm-tree 
is  no  less  proverbial.  Again,  obstinate  or  perverse  persons 
may  read  their  lineaments  of  character  in  that  of  the  Lapland 
mouse,  or  the  Arctic  puffin;  for  if  the  latter  should  seize  the 
end  of  a  bough,  thrust  into  its  hole,  rather  than  let  it  go,  it  will 
suffer  itself  to  be  drawn  out  by  it  and  killed;  and  the  former 
will  not  move  out  of  its  course  for  any  thing  or  any  body." 
Some  indolent  bipeds  there  are,  also,  who  resemble  a  certain 
bird,  the  laurus  articus,  which  is  said  never  to  fish  for  itself, 
but  to  live  upon  the  good  fortune  of  other  birds,  which  it 
pursues  for  the  sake  of  their  spoil.  Others  again  may  be  said 


276  SALAD       FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


to  exhibit  a  fatal  affinity  of  disposition  with  that  of  the  parrot 
of  Guinea,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  its  tribe,  but  which  is 
really  the  most  ferocious  in  its  disposition,  when,  to  all  appear 
ance,  it  seems  to  be  most  inclined  to  enlist  one's  sympathies. 

Thus  writes  the  author  of  the  Tin  Trumpet:  "The  implanted 
principle  that  determines  the  will  of  brutes  is  generally  limited 
to  the  great  objects  of  nature — self-preservation,  the  procurement 
of  food,  and  the  continuance  of  the  species.  An  intelligent 
being,  having  a  motive  in  view  for  the  performance  of  any 
particular  operation,  will  set  about  it  either  similarly  to  others 
or  in  a  different  mode,  according  to  circumstances,  his  views 
and  powers  of  action  being  almost  infinitely  varied;  but  irra 
tional  beings  never  deviate  from  the  instincts  with  which  they 
are  born,  and  which  are  adapted  to  their  particular  economy. 
Hence,  animals  are  stationary,  while  man  is  progressive.  Bea 
vers  construct  their  habitations,  birds  their  nests,  bees  their 
hives,  and  the  spider  its  web,  with  an  admirable  ingenuity; 
but  the  most  sagacious  of  them  can  not  apply  their  skill  to 
purposes  beyond  the  sphere  of  their  particular  wants,  nor  do 
any  of  them  improve  in  the  smallest  degree  on  their  predeces 
sors.  Exactly  as  they  respectively  built  at  the  time  of  the 
creation,  so  will  they  continue  to  build  until  the  end  of 
time.  To  illustrate  the  contrary  tendency  and  progressiveness 
of  man  in  his  habitations,  we  should  compare  a  Hottentot's 
Kraal,  with  St.  Peter's  or  St.  Paul's." 

Man  has  the  power  neither  to  eat,  to  walk,  nor  to  speak, 
until  he  is  taught.  Being  the  most  helpless  of  animals,  the 
utmost  of  his  earliest  power  is  to  suck,  to  move  his  limbs,  and 
to  weep.  Nor  is  he  the  only  animal  that  has  the  divine  faculty 
of  contemplation.  Though  the  most  intimate  acquaintance 
with  vegetable  anatomy  discovers  no  organ  that  bears  any  ana 
logy  with  the  seat  of  animal  sensation,  it  would  nevertheless 
betray  a  species  of  ignorance  to  deny  sensation  to  plants  :  and 
it  would  be  as  absurd  to  deny  to  animals  the  possession  of  some 


THE      MUTE      CREATION*.  277 


faculty  analogous  to  reason,  since  the  faculty  of  imagination 
is  proved  by  their  capacity  of  dreaming. 

Aristotle  concludes  there  "  are  between  man  and  animals  fac 
ulties  in  common,  near  and  analogous."  He  ascribes  to  the 
elephant  the  character  of  being  the  most  teachable  and 
tamable  :  but  he  adds,  "  one  sole  animal,  man,  can  reflect  and 
deliberate." 

It  appears  that  there  are  certain  kinds  of  intellectual  power 
— of  what,  in  man,  at  least,  is  commonly  called  reason — com 
mon,  to  a  certain  extent,  to  man  and  to  some  of  the  lower 
orders  of  creation.  And  again,  that  there  are  certain  powers 
wholly  confined  to  man — especially  all  those  concerned  in  what 
is  properly  called  reasoning — all  employment  of  language  as 
an  instrument  of  thought  ;  and  it  appears  that  instinct,  again, 
is  to  a  certain  extent  common  to  man  with  brutes,  though  far 
less  in  amount,  and  less  perfect  in  man  ;  and  more  and  more 
developed  in  other  animals  the  lower  we  descend  in  the  scale. 

M.  Flourens  contends  that  there  is  a  direct  opposition 
between  instinct  and  intelligence,  the  former  being  blind,  neces 
sary,  and  invariable,  while  the  latter  is  elective,  conditional, 
and  changeable.  Horses  learn  to  obey  man,  and  understand 
some  of  his  words  ;  this  intelligence,  in  a  qualified  sense,  is 
the  result  of  experience  and  instruction  or  training.  Monkeys 
and  cats  are  taught  to  drink  tea,  elephants  to  fire  pistols,  don 
keys  and  pigs  to  find  cards  or  numbers.  If  brutes  are  not 
invested  with  reasoning  powers — though  Plutarch,  Montaigne, 
and  others  have  sought  to  establish  the  fact — something  very 
analogous  to  this  they  seem  to  possess  ;  indeed  it  is  difficult  to 
account  for  the  proofs  of  sagacity  and  intelligence  which  in 
some  instances  they  evince,  on  any  other  hypothesis.  Thus 
serpents  are  said  to  obey  the  voice  of  their  masters  ;  the  trum 
peter-bird  follows  its  owner  like  a  spaniel  ;  and  the  jacana  acts 
as  a  guard  to  poultry,  preserving  them  in  the  fields  from  birds 
of  prey,  and  escorting  them  home  regularly  at  night.  In  the 


278  SALAD      KOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


Shetland  Isles  there  is  a  gull  which  defends  the  flock  from 
eagles  ;  it  is  therefore  regarded  as  a  privileged  bird.  The 
chamois  bounding  among  the  snowy  mountains  of  the  Caucasus, 
are  indebted  for  their  safety,  in  no  small  degree,  to  a  peculiar 
species  of  pheasant.  This  bird  acts  as  their  sentinel  ;  for  as 
soon  as  it  gets  sight  of  a  man  it  whistles,  upon  hearing  which, 
the  chamois,  knowing  the  hunter  to  be  not  far  distant,  seta 
off  with  the  greatest  speed,  and  seeks  the  highest  peaks  of 
the  mountains.  The  artifices  which  partridges  and  plovers 
employ  to  delude  their  enemies  from  the  nest  of  their  young, 
may  be  referred  to  as  a  case  in  point,  as  well  as  the 
adroit  contrivance  of  the  hind  for  the  preservation  of  her 
young  ;  for  when  she  hears  the  sound  of  dogs,  she  puts 
herself  in  the  way  of  the  hunters,  and  starts  in  a  direction 
to  draw  them  away  from  her  fawns.  Instances  of  the  effect 
of  grief  upon  animals  are  also  no  less  remarkable.  The 
writer  already  cited  says  :  "  I  knew  a  dog  that  died  for 
the  loss  of  its  master,  and  a  bulfinch  that  abstained  from  sing- 
Ing  ten  entire  months  on  account  of  the  absence  of  its  mistress. 
O  n  her  return  it  immediately  resumed  its  song."  Lord  Kaimes 
relates  an  instance  of  a  canary,  which,  while  singing  to  its  mate 
hatching  her  eggs  in  a  cage,  fell  dead  ;  the  female  quitted  her 
nest,  and  finding  him  dead,  rejected  all  food,  and  soon  died  by 
his  side. 

That  most  quadrupeds  have  all  the  bodily  senses  that  man  has, 
and  that  many  of  them  feel  the  various  passions  by  which  our 
humanity  is  distinguished,  would  seem  to  be  no  matter  of  dispu 
tation  ;  for  even  insects  exhibit  the  emotions  of  fear,  anger,  sor 
row,  joy,  and  desire,  and  many  of  them  express  those  passions 
by  sounds  peculiar  to  themselves.  Dupont  de  Nemours  ima 
gined  he  understood  the  language  of  beasts  and  birds.  He 
actually  published  "  Translations  of  the  Songs  of  the  Nightin 
gale,"  and  the  Crows'  Dictionary — "  Chansons  du  Rossignol," 
and  "  Le  Dictionnaire  des  Corbeaux."  Montaigne  will  have  it 
that  beasts  have  language,  "  and  if  we  do  not  understand  it,  it 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  279 


is  not  their  fault."  Milton  imagines  Adam  master  of  the  lan 
guage  of  animals,  as  indicated  by  the  motto  to  our  chapter. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  Pyramids  were  erected 
in  honor  of  bulls,  not  for  the  fame  of  kings;  but  not  to  refer 
to  the  folly  of  the  ancients  in  worshipping  reptiles,  insects, 
birds,  and  quadrupeds,  it  will  at  least  be  fair  to  remind  the 
reader  of  the  memorable  instance  mentioned  in  Holy  Writ  of 
that  supernaturally  endowed  animal,  of  a  despised  race,  which 
administered  a  merited  rebuke  to  an  unrighteous  and  disobe 
dient  prophet. 

For  the  better  illustration  of  our  subject  we  shall  now  adduce 
some  illustrative  anecdotes  ;  and  as  the  dog  is  a  very  general 
favorite,  we  propose,  first,  thus  to  exemplify,  not  only  his  supe 
rior  sagacity,  but  his  exemplary  fidelity,  which  latter  feature 
of  character  he  seems  really  to  possess  in  greater  perfection 
than  his  master,  if  we  allow  any  significancy  to  the  remarkable, 
and  certainly  very  disparaging  inquiry  of  Solomon — "  A  faith 
ful  man  who  can  find  ?"  As  in  the  case  of  the  human  species, 
the  canine  exhibits  a  great  variety  of  character  and  disposition 
— from  the  vicious  to  the  amiable  ;  nor  are  these  various 
shades  of  moral  development  the  less  remarkable  if  we  consider 
the  family  connections  and  associations  of  this  animal  ;  the  dog 
being  a  near  relative  of  the  fox,  the  hyena,  the  jackal,  and  the 
wolf — creatures  whose  characteristics  are  of  a  very  questionable 
kind.  In  the  East  and  elsewhere,  the  dog  wanders  about  wild: 
but  in  more  civilized  communities  his  association  with  man 
seems  to  have  imparted  to  his  nature  somewhat  of  the  polish 
and  temper  of  refined  life.  It  is  said  that  the  dog  in  his 
primitive  state  is  dumb,  and  that  he  first  acquired  his  faculty 
of  barking  from  his  attempting  to  imitate  the  human  voice. 
Many  of  the  canine  fraternity  lead  a  miserably  degraded 
existence,  it  is  true  ;  but  the  opposite  cannot,  without  excep 
tion,  be  affirmed  of  the  race  of  his  master,  as  in  the  instance 
of  the  inebriate,  who  degrades  himself  lower  than  the  level  of 
the  brute.  Who  does  not  admire  the  noble  and  sagacious 


'280  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


creature,  for  bis  usefulness,  fidelity,  and  attractive  manners  ? 
"  He  has  been  the  pampered  minion  of  royalty,  and  the  half- 
starved  partaker  of  the  beggar's  crust :  in  one  form  he 
appears  as  the  high-bred  hound  of  the  chase  ;  in  another,  as 
the  lowly  but  more  useful  keeper  of  his  master's  flocks  ;  in 
another,  as  the  true  and  pertinacious  tracker  of  human  felons  ; 
in  another,  as  the  active  destroyer  of  humbler  nuisances  ;  and 
in  another,  as  the  laborious  beast  of  burden,"*  For  an 
instance  of  canine  sagacity  we  refer  to  the  following  :  "  A  dog 
belonging  to  a  celebrated  chemist,  had  tried  upon  it  the  effect 
of  a  certain  poison,  and  upon  the  next  day  a  counter-poison 
was  administered  with  the  effect  of  preserving  the  crea 
ture's  life.  The  following  day  another  dose  was  offered  him, 
but  he  would  not  touch  it.  Different  sorts  of  poisonous  drugs 
were  presented  to  him,  but  he  resolutely  refused  all.  Bread 
was  offered,  but  he  would  not  touch  it ;  meat,  but  he  turned 
from  it  ;  water,  but  he  would  not  drink.  To  reassure  him,  his 
master  offered  him  bread  and  meat,  of  which  he  himself  ate  in 
the  dog's  presence  ;  and  of  that  the  sagacious  animal  hesitated 
not  to  partake.  He  was  then  taken  to  a  fountain,  but  he 
would  drink  nowhere  but  from  the  spot  where  the  water  gushed 
free  and  fresh.  This  continued  for  several  days,  until  the 
master,  touched  by  the  extraordinary  intelligence  of  the  poor 
creature,  resolved  to  make  no  more  attempts  upon  him  with  his 
poisous."f  Take  another  case,  which  is  no  less  significant :  "  A 
gentleman  who  was  in  the  habit  of  walking  out  with  his  dog  in 
the  evening,  on  one  occasion  happened  to  be  engaged  beyond 
the  usual  hour  for  the  walk,  when  'Brush'  made  his  appearance 
carrying  a  hat  in  his  mouth.  His  master  took  little  or  no 
notice  of  the  circumstance,  thinking  that  the  dog  was  acting 
according  to  the  orders  of  some  of  the  family  ;  but  in  a  little 
while  he  again  walked  into  the  room,  carrying  his  master's 
boots,  significantly  wagging  his  tail,  and  evidently  satisfied  that 
he  had  given  a  broad  hint  enough.  It  was  found  that  the  dog 

•Dr.  BeU.  tEdinb.  Regliter. 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  281 


had  been  guided  solely  by  his  own  instinct.  The  following  inci 
dent,  said  to  be  well  attested,  and  taken  from  a  French  work, 
entitled,  L 'Histoire  des  Chiens  Celebres,  shows  that  a  well- 
educated  dog,  under  exciting  circumstances,  cannot  only  reason 
and  act  with  wonderful  decision  and  presence  of  mind,  but  can 
also  manifest  a  feeling  of  revenge,  which  is  not  necessarily 
his  natural  character,  but  which  can  hardly  be  surpassed  in 
intensity  by  a  Christian  warrior.  "  Mustapha,  a  strong  and 
active  greyhound,  belonged  to  a  captain  of  artillery,  raised 
from  its  birth  in  the  midst  of  camps,  always  accompanied  its 
master,  and  exhibited  no  alarm  in  the  midst  of  battle.  In  the 
hottest  engagements  it  remained  near  the  cannon,  and  carried 
the  match  in  its  mouth.  At  the  memorable  battle  of  Fontenoi, 
the  master  of  Mustapha  received  a  mortal  wound.  At  the 
moment  when  about  to  fire  upon  the  enemy,  he  and  several  -of 
his  corps  were  struck  to  the  earth  by  a  discharge  of  artillery. 
Seeing  his  master  extended  lifeless  and  bleeding,  the  dog 
became  desperate,  and  howled  piteously.  Just  at  that  time  a 
body  of  French  soldiers  were  advancing  to  gain  possession  of 
the  piece,  which  was  aimed  at  them  from  the  top  of  a  small 
rising-ground.  As  if  with  a  view  to  revenge  his  master's 
death,  Rlustapha  seized  the  lighted  match  with  his  paws,  and  set 
fire  to  the  cannon,  loaded  with  case-shot !  Seventy  men  fell  on  the 
spot,  and  the  remainder  took  to  flight.  After  this  bold  stroke, 
the  dog  lay  down  sadly  near  the  dead  body  of  his  master,  licked 
his  wounds,  and  remained  there  twenty-two  hours  without  sus 
tenance.  He  was  at  length  with  difficulty  removed  by  the 
comrades  of  the  deceased.  This  gallant  greyhound  was  car 
ried  to  London,  and  presented  to  George  II.,  who  had  him 
taken  care  of  as  a  brave  and  faithful  public  servant.  Byron 
thus  apostrophises  this  animal : 

"  The  poor  dog!  in  life  the  firmest  friend — 
The  first  to  welcome,  foremost  to  defend  ; 
Whose  honest  hf.art  is  still  his  master's  own  ; 
Who  labors,  fights,  lives,  breathes  for  him  akme." 


282  SALAD   FOR  THK   SOCIAL. 


Hogg,  the  Ettrick  shepherd,  acknowledges  that  he  "  never 
felt  so  grateful  to  any  creature  under  the  sun  as  he  did  to  his 
honest  'Sirrah!'"  The  testimony  of  Burns  is  scarcely  less 
remarkable;  he  affirms  "that  the  master  is  the  soul  of  the 
dog;  all  the  powers  and  faculties  of  its  nature  arc  devoted  to 
its  master's  service;  and  these  powers  and  faculties  are  ennobled 
by  the  intercourse."  He  sarcastically  adds  that  the  dog  some 
times  puts  the  Christian  to  shame  in  this  respect. 

A  few  days  before  the  overthrow  of  Robespierre,  a  revolutionary 
tribunal  had  condemned  to  death  a  magistrate,  who  was  a  most 
estimable  man.  His  favorite  and  faithful  dog,  a  spaniel,  was 
with  him  when  he  was  apprehended,  but  was  not  permitted  to 
accompany  his  master  to  prison.  Day  after  day  the  dog  repaired 
to  the  door  of  the  prison,  vainly  seeking  admission.  At  last  his 
fidelity  won  upon  the  keeper,  and  he  allowed  him  to  enter.  The 
meeting  of  the  old  man  and  hisdevoted  dog  may  be  better  imagined 
than  described.  The  jailer,  however,  fearing  for  himself,  shortly 
afterward  carried  the  animal  out,  although  he  admitted  him  for 
a  short  time  each  successive  day,  as  he  regularly  presented 
himself.  When  the  day  of  sentence  arrived,  the  dog,  in  spite 
of  the  guards,  made  his  way  into  the  hall,  where  he  lay  crouched 
between  the  legs  of  his  master  ;  and  at  the  fatal  place  of 
execution  the  faithful  creature  was  present:  the  knife  of  the 
guillotine  fell,  but  he  would  not  leave  the  lifeless  body.  After 
two  days  he  was  discovered  stretched  upon  his  master's  grave; 
and  for  three  months  the  disconsolate  animal  repaired  each 
morning  and  evening  to  the  spot,  leaving  it  only  to  procure 
food  from  his  new  protector,  who  took  pleasure  in  thus 
rewarding  his  surprising  devotion  to  the  memory  of  his  deceased 
master.  At  the  end  of  the  period  named  he  began  to  refuse 
food,  his  patience  became  exhausted,  and  for  twenty-four  hours 
he  was  observed  to  employ  his  weakened  limbs  in  digging  .tip 
the  earth  that  separated  him  from  the  being  he  so  loved. 
His  powers  now  gave  way;  he  shrieked  in  his  struggles;  and  at 
length  ceased  to  breathe,  his  last  look  being  intently  fixed 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  283 


upon  the  grave.  If  we  admit  that  dogs  possess  the  faculty  of 
thought,  here  is  a  decided  case  of  a  dog  dying  of  a  broken 
heart.  A  poor  tailor,  of  the  Borough,  left  a  small  dog 
inconsolable  for  his  loss.  The  little  animal  would  not  leave  his 
dead  master  even  for  food;  and  when  the  corpse  was  removed 
for  burial,  he  followed  the  mournful  train  to  the  churchyard, 
and  would  have  remained  at  the  grave  but  for  the  sexton, 
whose  ruder  sensibilities  prompted  his  expulsion.  He  was 
found  the  next  day,  on  the  grave  of  his  master,  and  there  con 
tinued  to  repeat  his  visit,  as  often  as  he  was  expelled,  till  one 
day  the  circumstance  having  become  known  to  the  clergyman, 
he  had  him  supplied  daily  with  food,  and  even  built  him  a  ken 
nel  on  the  spot,  in  order  that  be  might  indulge  the  bent  of  his 
inclination.  Two  years  did  this  mirror  of  fidelity  pass  in  this 
manner,  till  death  put  an  end  to  his  griefs.*  Take  another 
instance  of  canine  devotion,  that  of  a  dog  whose  master  desired 
him  to  guard  a  bag,  which  he  had  inadvertently  placed  almost 
in  the  middle  of  a  narrow  street,  in  the  town  of  Southampton. 
While  the  faithful  animal  was  keeping  watch  over  it,  a  cart 
passed  by;  and  such  was  the  immovable  determination  of  the 
creature  to  obey  nis  master's  orders,  that,  rather  than  relinquish 
his  trust,  he  actually  suffered  the  vehicle  to  crush  him  to  death. 
As  an  instance  of  generous  revenge  on  the  part  of  this  noble 
creature,  there  is  a  story  told  of  a  person  who,  being  desirous 
of  getting  rid  of  his  dog,  took  it  along  with  him  in  a  boat,  and 
rowing  out  into  the  river  Seine,  threw  it  overboard.  The  poor 
animal  repeatedly  struggled  to  regain  the  boat,  but  was  as 
often  beaten  off;  till  at  length,  in  the  attempts  to  baffle  the 
efforts  of  the  dog,  the  man  upset  the  boat,  and  he  fell  into  the 
water.  No  sooner,  however,  did  the  generous  brute  pee  his 
master  struggle  in  the  stream,  than  he  forsook  the  boat,  and 
held  him  above  water  till  assistance  arrived,  and  thus  saved  his 
life.  Was  not  this  dog  morally  superior  to  his  owner,  in  thus 
returning  good  for  evil  ?  Here  is  another  example  of  generosity : 

*  Elaine's  Canine  Pathology. 


284  8ALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


A  favorite  house-dog,  left  to  the  care  of  its  master's  servants, 
at  Edinburgh,  while  he  was  himself  in  the  country,  would  have 
been  starved  by  them  had  it  not  had  recourse  to  the  kitchen  of 
a  friend  of  its  master's,  which  it  occasionally  visited.  Not  content 
with  indulging  himself  simply  in  this  streak  of  good-fortune,  this 
liberally-minded  animal,  a  few  days  subsequently,  falling  in 
with  a  poor  solitary  duck,  and  possibly  deeming  it  to  be  in 
destitute  circumstances,  caught  it  up  in  his  teeth,  and  carried 
it  to  the  well-stored  larder  that  had  so  amply  supplied  his  own 
necessities.  He  laid  the  duck  at  the  cook's  feet,  with  many 
polite  movements  of  his  tail — that  most  expressive  of  canine 
features — then  scampered  off,  with  much  seeming  complacency 
at  having  given  his  hostess  this  substantial  proof  of  his  grateful 
sense  of  favors  received. 

We  read  of  a  surgeon  who»found  a  poor  dog,  with  his  leg  bro 
ken.  He  took  him  home,  set  it,  and  in  due  time  gave  him  his 
liberty.  Some  months  afterward  the  surgeon  was  awoke  in  the 
night  by  a  dog  barking  loudly  at  his  door.  As  the  barking 
continued,  and  the  surgeon  thought  he  recognized  the  voice,  he 
got  up,  and  went  down  stairs.  When  he  opened  the  door, 
there  stood  his  former  patient,  wagging  his  tail,  and  by  his  side 
another  dog — a  friend  whom  he  had  brought — who  had  also 
had  the  misfortune  to  get  a  leg  broken.  There  is  another 
dog-story  related  by  Mr.  Jenyns,  which  we  think  is  not  without 
its  moral.  A  poodle,  belonging  to  a  gentleman  in  Cheshire, 
was  in  the  habit  of  going  to  church  with  his  master,  and  sitting 
with  him  in  the  pew  during  the  whole  service.  Sometimes  his 
master  did  not  come;  but  this  did  not  prevent  the  poodle,  who 
always  presented  himself  in  good  time,  entered  the  pew,  and 
remained  sitting  there  alone:  departing  with  the  rest  of  the 
congregation.  One  Sunday,  the  dam  at  the  head  of  a  lake  in 
the  neighborhood  gave  way,  and  the  whole  road  was  inundated. 
The  congregation  was  therefore  reduced  to  a  few  individuals,  who 
came  from  cottages  close  at  hand.  Nevertheless,  by  the  time 
the  clergyman  had  commenced,  he  saw  his  friend,  the  poodle, 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  285 


come  slowly  up  the  aisle,  dripping  with  water:  having  "been 
obliged  to  swim  above  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  get  to  church. 
He  went  into  his  pew,  as  usual,  and  remained  quietly  there  to 
the  end  of  the  service.  This  is  told  on  the  authority  of  the 
clergyman  himself. 

Dogs  perform  an  important  part  in  street-begging,  in  London. 
They  have  been  known,  on  receipt  of  a  penny,  to  run  to  the 
baker's  shop,  and  bring  their  master  a  piece  of  bread.  We  have 
read  of  a  dog,  who,  on  the  death  of  his  blind  master,  followed 
up  his  old  calling  by  begging  on  his  own  account.  Another 
instance  of  canine  wit,  which  seems  to  have  a  smack  of  the 
facetious  in  it,  is  that  of  one  who  made  a  living  by  shoe-blacking, 
in  Paris.  The  animal,  in  his  desire  to  serve  his  master,  would 
roll  in  the  gutter,  for  the  purpose  of  throwing  mud  upon  the 
shoes  of  pedestrians.  A  gentleman  who  was  the  victim  of  this 
trick  of  trade,  extorted  the  confession  from  his  master,  that  he 
had  taught  the  dog  this  expedient,  and  that  it  proved  a  very 
profitable  one. 

Instances  of  the  strong  attachment  of  the  beggar's  dog  may 
often  be  witnessed.  Not  only  does  he  enact  the  guide  to  the 
blind,  but  he  performs  other  services  equally  essential:  taking 
up  the  alms  dropped  for  his  mendicant  master,  or  holding  a  cup 
to  receive  the  contributions  of  the  charitable;  and  often  is  he 
seen  placing  himself  in  an  erect  attitude,  with  a  most  beseech 
ing  visage,  which  tells  well  upon  the  pocket.  Hogg,  the 
Ettrick  Shepherd,  relates  some  surprising  things  about  the 
exceeding  fidelity  and  utility  of  the  shepherd's  dog  on  the 
highlands  of  Scotland.  The  dog  is  indeed  indispensable  in 
that  capacity,  for  no  flock  could  be  kept  together  without 
his  watch-care;  and  many  instances  occur  in  which  several 
hundred  sheep  are  brought  home  from  the  ravines  and  rocks 
of  that  northern  clime,  solely  by  this  useful  animal.  While 
most  other  quadrupeds  fear  man,  the  dog  seems,  by  a  law 
seemingly  of  intuition,  to  regard  him  with  feelings  of  strong 
attachment.  How  inhumane  are  they  who  fail  to  appreciate 


286  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


this  remarkable  trait  of  his  character.  The  spaniel  is  the 
most  grateful,  affectionate,  and  patient  under  ill-treatment.  If 
punished,  it  receives  the  chastisrnent  with  submission,  looking 
up  into  the  face  of  its  offended  master  with  a  most  deprecating 
expression  of  sorrow ;  whilst  at  the  slightest  returning  encourage 
ment,  its  indications  of  joy  and  delight  are  evinced  with  seeming 
ecstasy.  Here,  again,  an  important  moral  lesson  may  be 
learned  by  those  who  have  not  acquired  the  difficult  and  rare 
faculty  of  suffering  wrongfully  without  repining  or  resentment. 
The  Newfoundland  dog  is  known  to  be  superior  to  most  others 
in  the  power  of  swimming,  for  which  it  is  peculiarly  fitted  by 
having  the  foot  partly  webbed.  Some  years  ago  a  nurse  was 
playing  with  a  child  on  the  parapet  of  a  bridge  at  Dublin;  with 
a  sudden  spring,  the  child  fell  into  the  river.  The  agonized 
spectators  saw  the  waters  close  over  the  child,  and  imagined 
that  it  had  sunk  to  rise  no  more,  when  a  noble  dog,  seeing  the 
catastrophe,  gazed  wistfully  at  the  ripple  in  the  stream  made 
by  the  child's  descent,  and  rushed  in  to  its  rescue.  At  the 
same  instant  the  poor  little  thing  reappeared  on  the  surface  : 
the  dog  seized  it,  and  with  a  firm  but  gentle  pressure,  bore  it 
to  the  shore  without  injury.  Among  the  spectators  attracted 
to  the  spot  was  a  gentleman  who  appeared  strongly  impressed 
with  admiration  for  the  sagacity  and  promptness  of  the  dog. 
On  hastening  to  get  nearer  to  him,  he  saw,  with,  terror,  joy, 
and  surprise,  that  the  child  thus  rescued  was  his  own  !  Such 
was  his  sense  of  gratitude,  that  it  is  said  he  offered  five  hun 
dred  guineas  for  the  noble  animal.  The  well-known  dogs  of 
the  Convent  of  Mount  St.  Bernard  deserve  more  than  a  pass 
ing  tribute.  If  they  find  a  child  amid  the  snows,  they  stay 
not  for  instructions,  but  hasten  with  it  to  the  hospitable 
monks.  Of  their  own  accord,  they  roam  about  these  desolate 
regions  day  and  night,  seeking  to  relieve  the  distresses  of  tra 
vellers.  One  of  these  dogs  has  a  cask  of  cordial  tied  about  his 
neck,  to  which  the  sufferer  may  apply  for  support ;  and  another 
has  a  warm  cloak  fastened  to  his  back,  to  cover  him.  It  is 


THE      MUTE     CREATION.  287 


related  that  one  of  these  indispensable  animals  had  saved  the 
lives  of  twenty-two  persons,  and  was  at  last  buried  in  an  ava 
lanche,  in  attempting  to  convey  a  poor  courier  to  his  family, 
who  were  toiling  up  the  mountain  to  meet  him:  all  were  lost  in 
one  common  calamity.  In.  many  of  the  canine  species  we  may 
also  perceive  an  acuteness  of  perception  and  sagacity  equalled 
only  by  that  of  the  elephant.  Our  illustrations  of  canine 
instinct  or  intelligence  would  be  incomplete  were  we  to  omit 
the  following.  A  gentleman  was  missed  in  London,  and  was 
supposed  to  have  met  with  some  foul  play.  No  clue  could  be 
obtained  to  the  mystery,  till  it  was  gained  from  observing  that 
his  dog  continued  to  crouch  down  before  a  certain  house.  The 
animal  would  not  be  induced  to  leave  the  spot,  and  it  was  at  length 
inferred  that  he  might  be  waiting  for  his  master.  The  house, 
hitherto  above  suspicion,  was  searched,  and  the  result  was  the 
discovery  of  the  body  of  the  missing  individual,  who  had  been 
murdered.  The  guilty  parties  were  arrested,  confessed  their 
crime;  and  thus  one  of  the  "  dens  of  London"  was  broken  up 
by  the  "police-knowledge"  of  this  faithful  dog. 

The  elephant,  unwieldy  and  uncouth  as  he  seems,  presents 
some  remarkable  features  of  character,  combining  the  fidelity 
of  the  dog,  the  endurance  of  the  camel,  and  the  docility  of  the 
horse,  with  singular  sagacity,  prudence,  and  courage.  It  is 
related  of  one  of  the  soldiers  of  Pyrrhus,  King  of  Epirus,  that, 
when  fighting  in  the  territory  of  Argos,  he  fell  wounded  from 
his  elephant,  which  rushed  furiously  among  the  combatants  till  lie 
found  his  master,  raised  him  gently  from  the  ground  with  his 
trunk,  and  placing  him  on  his  tusks,  carried  him  back  to  the 
town.  A  similar  anecdote  is  given  of  King  Porus,  who,  in  an 
engagement  with  Alexander  the  Great,  meeting  with  a  similar 
casualty,  his  faithful  elephant  is  said  to  have  kept  the  enemy  at 
bay  till  he  had  replaced  the  monarch  on  his  back  by  means  of 
his  trunk ;  although  the  poor  animal,  in  this  heroic  defence, 
was  severely  wounded. 

In  one  of  the  recent  accounts  of  scenes  of  Indian  warfare,  a 


288  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


body  of  artillery  was  described  as  proceeding  up  a  hill,  and  the 
great  strength  of  elephants  was  found  highly  advantageous  in 
drawing  up  the  guns.  On  the  carriage  of  one  of  these  guns, 
a  little  in  front  of  the  wheel,  sat  an  artillerynlan,  resting  him 
self.  An  elephant,  drawing  another  gun,  was  advancing  in 
regular  order  close  behind.  Whether  from  falling  asleep,  or 
over-fatigue,  the  man  fell  from  his  seat,  and  the  wheel  of  the 
gun-carriage,  with  its  heavy  gun  was  just  rolling  over  him. 
The  elephant,  comprehending  the  danger,  and  seeing  that  he 
could  not  reach  the  body  of  the  man  with  bis  trunk,  seized  the 
wheel  by  the  top,  and,  lifting  it  up,  passed  it  carefully  over  the 
fallen  man,  and  set  it  down  on  the  other  side.  An  Oriental 
traveller  furnishes  some  amusing  incidents  respecting  the  docil 
ity  and  sagaciousness  of  this  monstrous  creature.  In  his  jour 
neys,  he  says,  if  he  wished  to  stop  to  admire  a  beautiful  pros 
pect,  the  animal  remained  immovable  until  his  sketch  was  fin 
ished  ;  if  he  wished  for  mangoes  growing  out  or  his  reach,  this 
faithful  servant  selected  the  most  fruitful  branch,  and,  break 
ing  it  off  with  his  trunk  for  him,  accepted  very  thankfully  of 
any  part  for  himself,  respectfully  and  politely  acknowledging 
the  compliment  by  raising  his  trunk  three  times  above  his  head, 
in  the  manner  of  Oriental  obeisance.  Docile  as  he  is,  this 
noble  quadruped  seems  conscious  of  his  superiority  over  the 
rest  of  the  brute  creation  ;  a  proof  of  this  may  be  seen  in  the 
following  circumstance  related  by  another  Eastern  tourist. 
Some  young  camels  were  travelling  with  the  British  army  in 
India,  when,  having  occasion  to  cross  the  Jumna  in  a  boat, 
and  the  driver  being  unable  to  urge  them  forward,  the  elephant 
was  appealed  to  to  accomplish  the  task.  The  animal  immedi 
ately  assumed  a  furious  appearance,  trumpeted  with  his  pro 
boscis,  shook  his  ears,  roared,  struck  the  ground  right  and  left, 
and  blew  the  dust  in  clouds  towards  them.  The  camels,  in 
their  fear  of  the  elephant,  forgot  their  dread  of  the  boat,  and 
they  rushed  into  it  in  the  greatest  hurry,  when  the  elephant 
resumed  his  composure,  and  deliberately  returned  to  his  post. 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  289 


Locke  observes,  "  It  seems  as  evident  that  some  animals  do  in 
certain  instances  reason,  as  that  they  have  sense."  This  cer 
tainly  derives  something  like  corroboration  from  the  following 
statement.  At  the  siege  of  Burtpore,  in  1805,  the  British 
army,  with  its  countless  host  of  followers  and  attendants,  and 
thousands  of  cattle,  had  been  for  a  long  time  before  the  city, 
when,  on  the  approach  of  the  hot  season,  the  supply  of  water 
ge  nerally  fails.  On  this  occasion,  two  drivers,  each  with  his 
elephant — the  one  large  and  strong,  the  other  rather  small  and 
weak — were  at  the  well  together.  The  smaller  animal  was 
provided  with  a  bucket,  which  he  carried  at  the  end  of  his 
trunk  ;  but  the  other  elephant,  not  being  furnished  with  this 
needful  appendage,  seized  the  bucket,  and  easily  wrested  it 
away  from  his  less  powerful  fellow.  The  latter  was  too  sensi 
ble  of  his  inferiority  openly  to  resent  the  insult,  though  he  evi 
dently  felt  it  ;  but  the  keepers  began  to  contend  and  abuse 
each  other.  At  length  the  injured  brute,  watching  the  oppor 
tunity  when  the  other  was  standing  with  his  side  to  the  well, 
retired  backwards  a  few  paces  very  quietly,  and  rushing  for 
ward  with  all  his  might,  he  drove  his  adversary  into  the  well. 
It  may  be  supposed  great  consternation  among  the  company 
was  the  result  ;  and  some  fourteen  hours'  assiduous  and  inge 
nious  labor  wag  required  to  rescue  the  ponderous  animal  from 
his  novel,  though  not  unpleasant,  situation.  If  a  helpless  liv 
ing  creature,  or  a  wounded  person,  lie  in  his  way,  the  elephant 
will  protect  and  succor  him.  An  incident  is  recorded  in  the 
history  of  the  siege  of  Seriugapatam,  to  this  effect  :  "  I  have 
seen,"  says  the  officer  referred  to,  "  the  wife  of  a  Mahoot  give 
an  infant  in  charge  of  an  elephant,  while  she  went  about  some 
business,  and  have  been  much  amused  in  observing  the  sagac 
ity  and  care  of  the  unwieldy  nurse.  The  child,  which,  like 
most  children,  did  not  like  to  lie  still  in  one  position,  would, 
as  soon  as  left  to  itself,  begin  crawling  about  ;  in  which  exer 
cise  it  would  probably  get  among  the  legs  of  the  animal,  or 
entangled  in  the  branches  of  the  trees  on  which  he  was  feed- 


290  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


ing  ;  when  the  elephant  would,  in  the  most  tender  manner, 
disengage  his  charge,  either  by  lifting  it  out  of  the  way  with 
his  trunk,  or  by  removing  the  impediments  to  its  free  progress. 
If  the  little  creature  should  happen  to  stray  away  too  far,  its 
mammoth  guardian  would  lift  it  back  as  gently  as  possible  to 
the  spot  whence  it  had  started." 

Somnini  mentions  an  elephant,  at  Naples,  which  was 
employed  with  others  in  fetching  water  in  a  copper  vessel,  and 
perceiving  that  the  water  escaped  from  some  fracture,  he  took 
the  vessel  of  his  own  accord  to  a  smith's  for  repair,  in  imita 
tion  of  what  he  had  seen  done  before  by  his  master. 

Take  yet  another  example  of  the  shrewd  wit  of  this  colossal 
creature.  Some  men  were  teasing  an  elephant  they  were  con 
veying  across  a  river.  In  the  boat  that  was  towed  alongside 
they  had  a  dog  which  began  to  torment  it  by  pulling  its  ears. 
The  elephant  was  resolved  to  resent  the  impertinence,  and 
what  do  you  suppose  was  her  expedient  ?  She  filled  her  pro 
boscis  with  water,  and  then  deluged  the  whole  party.  At  first 
the  men  laughed  at  the  manoeuvre,  but  she  persisted  until  they 
were  compelled  to  bale,  to  keep  from  sinking  ;  when,  seeing 
this,  she  redoubled  her  efforts,  and  it  is  said  she  certainly 
would  have  swamped  the  boat,  had  the  passage  across  been 
prolonged  a  few  minutes  further.  Thus  much — although  much 
more  might  be  presented — in  behalf  of  the  noble  qualities  of 
the  elephant.  We  see  that  he  is  in  no  respect  inferior  to  the 
dog  in  character,  and  yet — since  the  most  excellent  things  are 
said  to  lie  in  a  small  compass — and  the  dog  does  not,  like  his 
monstrous  contemporary,  require  two  hundred  pounds  of  solid 
meat  per  diem,  or  take  up  so  much  room — the  prevailing 
preference  for  the  canine  will,  doubtless,  long  continue  to 
obtain  among  civilized  communities. 

Even  pigs  may  lay  claim  to  a  species  of  moral  character. 
It  is  true  they  are  not  over  nice  as  to  their  personal  habits  or 
deportment  ;  but,  then,  they  seldom  or  never  perpetrate  the 
high  misdemeanors  of  which  some  human  beings  are  culpable, 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  291 


A  facetious  writer  remarks  :  "  Whether  food  is  best  eaten  off 
the  ground  or  in  a  china  plate,  is,  it  seems  to  us,  merely  a 
matter  of  taste  and  convenience,  on  which  pigs  and  men  hon 
estly  differ.  They  ought,  then,  to  be  judged  charitably.  At 
any  rate,  pigs  are  not  filthy  enough  to  chew  tobacco,  nor  to 
poison  their  breath  by  drinking  whisky.  As  to  personal 
appearance,  you  don't  catch  a  pig  playing  the  dandy,  nor  pick 
ing  his  way  up  muddy  streets  in  kid  slippers.  Pigs  have  some 
excellent  traits  of  character.  If  one  chances  to  wallow  a  little 
deeper  in  some  mire-hole  than  his  fellow,  and  so  carries  off  and 
comes  into  possession  of  more  of  the  earth  than  his  brethren, 
he  never  assumes  an  extra  importance  on  that  account ; 
neither  are  his  brethren  stupid  enough  to  worship  him  for  it. 
The  only  question  seems  to  be  :  '  Is  he  still  a  hog  ?'  If  he  is, 
they  treat  him  as  such.  And  when  a  hog  has  no  merits  of  his 
own,  he  never  puts  on  any  aristocratic  airs,  nor  claims  any 
particular  respect  on  account  of  his  family  connections.  They 
understand  full  well  the  common-sense  maxim,  '  Every  tub 
must  stand  upon  its  own  bottom.' "  If  there  is  an  absence  of 
humor  in  the  swinish  race,  the  loss  is  fully  compensated  by  the 
love  of  fun  inherent  with  the  monkey  tribe.  Dr.  Guthrie 
relates  the  following  amusing  anecdote  of  a  reasonable  monkey. 

"  Jack,  as  he  was  called,  seeing  his  master  and  some  com 
panions  drinking,  with  those  imitative  powers  for  which  his 
species  is  remarkable,  finding  half  a  glass  of  whisky  left,  took 
it  up  and  drank  it  off.  It  flew,  of  course,  to  his  head.  Amid 
their  loud  roars  of  laughter,  he  began  to  skip,  hop,  and  dance. 
Jack  was  drunk.  Next  day,  when  they  went,  with  the  inten 
tion  of  repeating  the  fun,  to  take  the  poor  monkey  from  his 
box,  he  was  not  to  be  seen.  Looking  inside,  there  he  lay, 
crouching  in  a  corner.  '  Come  out  !'  said  his  master.  Afraid 
to  disobey,  he  came,  walking  on  three  legs — the  fore-paw  that 
was  laid  on  his  forehead  saying,  as  plain  as  words  could  do, 
that  he  had  a  headache. 

"  Having  left  him  some  days  to  get  well,  and  resume  his 


292  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


gayety,  they  at  length  carried  him  off  to  the  old  scene  of  revel, 
On  entering,  he  eyed  the  glasses  with  manifest  terror,  skulking 
behind  the  chair  ;  and  on  his  master  ordering  him  to  drink,  he 
bolted,  and  he  was  on  the  house-top  in  a  twinkling.  They 
called  him  down.  He  would  not  come.  His  master  shook 
the  whip  at  him.  Jack,  astride  on  the  ridge-pole,  grinned 
defiance.  A  gun,  of  which  he  was  always  much  afraid,  was 
pointed  at  this  disciple  of  temperance  ;  he  ducked  his  head, 
and  slipped  over  to  the  back  of  the  house  ;  upon  which,  seeing 
his  predicament,  and  less  afraid,  apparently,  of  the  fire  than 
the  fire  water,  the  monkey  leaped  at  a  bound  on  the  chimney- 
top,  and  getting  down  into  a  flue,  held  on  by  his  fore-paws. 
He  would  rather  be  singed  than  drunk.  He  triumphed,  and, 
although  his  master  kept  him  for  twelve  years  after  that,  he 
never  could  persuade  the  monkey  to  taste  another  drop  of 
whisky." 

In  a  family  where  a  common  monkey  was  a  pet,  on  one 
occasion,  the  footman  had  been  shaving  himself — the  monkey 
watching  him  during  the  process — when  he  carelessly  left  his 
apparatus  within  reach  of  the  creature.  As  soon  as  the  man 
was  gone  out  of  the  room,  the  monkey  got  the  razor  and 
began  to  scrape  away  at  his  throat  as  he  had  seen  the  footman 
do,  when,  alas  !  not  understanding  the  nature  of  the  instru 
ment  he  was  using,  the  animal  cut  its  own  throat,  and,  before 
it  was  discovered,  bled  to  death.  A  friend  of  ours  possessed 
one  of  these  creatures,  whose  disposition  seemed  very  affection 
ate  ;  if  it  had  done  wrong  and  was  scolded,  it  immediately 
seated  itself  on  the  floor,  and  clasping  its  hands  together, 
seemed  to  beg  earnestly  to  be  forgiven.  Mrs.  Lee  also  tells 
us  of  one  belonging  to  her  eldest  daughter,  which  seemed  to 
know  he  could  master  the  child,  "  and  did  not  hesitate  to  bite 
and  scratch  her,  whenever  she  pulled  him  a  little  harder  than 
he  thought  proper.  I  punished  him,"  she  adds,  "for  each 
offend,  yet  fed  and  caressed  him  when  good  ;  by  which  means, 
I  possessed  an  entire  ascendancy  over  him."  The  same  writer 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  293 


also  gives  an  interesting  account  of  a  monkey  which  a  man  in 
Paris  had  trained  to  a  variety  of  clever  tricks.  "  I  met  him 
one  day,"  says  she,  "  suddenly,  as  he  was  coming  up  the  draw 
ing-room  stairs.  He  made  way  for  me  by  standing  in  an 
angle,  and  when  I  said,  '  Good-morning,'  took  off  his  cap,  and 
made  me  a  low  bow.  '  Are  you  going  away  ?'  I  asked  ; 
'  where  is  your  passport  ?'  Upon  which,  he  took  from  the 
same  cap  a  square  piece  of  paper,  which  he  opened  and  showed 
to  me.  His  master  told  him  my  gown  was  dusty,  and  he 
instantly  took  a  small  brush  from  his  master's  pocket,  raised 
the  hem  of  my  dress,  cleaned  it,  and  then  did  the  same  for  my 
shoes.  He  was  perfectly  docile  and  obedient ;  when  we  gave 
him  something  to  eat,  he  did  not  cram  his  pouches  with  it, 
but  delicately  and  tidily  devoured  it  ;  and  when  we  bestowed 
money  on  him,  he  immediately  put  it  into  his  master's  hands." 

A  monkey  tied  to  a  stake  was  robbed  by  the  Johnny 
Crows  (in  the  West  Indies)  of  his  food,  and  he  conceived  the 
following  plan  of  punishing  the  thieves.  He  feigned  death, 
and  lay  perfectly  motionless  on  the  ground,  near  to  his  stake. 
The  birds  approached  by  degrees,  and  got  near  enough  to 
steal  his  food,  which  he  allowed  them  to  do.  This  he  repeated 
several  times,  till  they  became  so  bold  as  to  come  within  the 
reach  of  his  claws.  He  calculated  his  distance,  and  laid  hold 
of  one  of  them.  Death  was  not  his  plan  of  punishment  ;  he 
was  more  refined  in  his  cruelty.  He  plucked  every  feather  out 
of  the  bird,  and  then  let  him  go  and  show  himself  to  his  com 
panions.  He  made  a  man  of  him,  according  to  the  ancient 
definition  of  a  "  biped  without  feathers."* 

In  the  countries  of  the  Eastern  Peninsula  and  Archipelago, 
where  they  abound,  the  matrons  are  often  observed,  in  the 
cool  of  the  evening,  sitting  in  a  circle  round  their  little  ones, 
which  amuse  themselves  with  various  gambols.  The  merri 
ment  of  the  young,  as  they  jump  over  each  other's  heads,  make 
mimic  fights,  and  wrestle  in  sport,  is  most  ludicrously  con- 

*  Illustrations  of  Instinct. 


294  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


trasted  with  the  gravity  of  their  seniors,  which  might  bo 
presumed  as  delighting  in  the  fun,  but  far  too  staid  and  wise 
to  let  it  appear.  There  is  a  regard,  however,  to  discipline  ; 
and  whenever  any  foolish  juvenile  behaves  decidedly  ill,  the 
mamma  will  be  seen  to  jump  into  the  throng,  seize  the  offender 
by  the  tail,  and  administer  exactly  that  extreme  kind  of  chas 
tisement  which  has  so  long  been  in  vogue  among  human 
parents  and  Yorkshire  schoolmasters. 

That  there  is  merriment — genuine,  hnmau-likc  merriment — 
in  many  of  the  lower  animals,  no  one  can  doubt  who  has  ever 
watched  the  gambols  of  the  kid,  the  lamb,  the  kitten  and  monkey. 

Examples  of  docility  and  patience  are  suggested  to  us,  in  a 
forcible  degree,  by  the  beautiful  reindeer,  the  camel,  and  the 
horse  :  the  former,  it  is  known,  is  of  indispensable  value  to 
the  Laplander,  as  the  camel  is  to  the  wanderer  over  the  sultry 
and  sandy  wastes,  where  there  are  no  cool  shades,  nor  refresh 
ing  water-courses.  Caravans,  consisting  of  from  500  to  3000 
merchants,  are  often  saved  from  perishing  from  thirst,  in  their 
weary  passage  over  the  arid  and  trackless  desert,  by  the 
acute  sense  of  smelling  possessed  by  the  camel  ;  they  are  able 
to  scent  water  at  the  distance  of  two  miles.  This  remarkable 
faculty  they  seem  to  possess  in  an  equal  degree  with  the  dog  ; 
they  also  evince  a  like  teachable  and  tractable  spirit  with  that 
favorite  animal,  while  the  noble  and  intelligent  horse  exhibits 
a  no  less  striking  example  of  these  characteristics.  To  say 
nothing  of  the  symmetrical  beauty  and  graceful  bearing  of  this 
universally  esteemed  creature,  which  it  will  be  remembered 
is  to  be  seen  in  all  its  pride  of  beauty  in  the  land  of  its 
nativity,  the  East,  its  many  excellent  qualities  would,  apart 
from  its  attractive  form,  commend  it  to  preference.  Like 
other  quadrupeds,  it  possesses  the  faculty  of  memory  in  a 
singular  degree,  and  also  evinces  no  less  its  attachment  for  its 
owner.  It  may,  moreover,  be  trained  to  many  ingenious 
tricks,  such  as  dancing,  as  the  feats  of  the  circus  sufficiently 
attest.  Among  others,  there  is  a  story  told  of  a  horse 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  295 


kept  by  a  gentleman  of  Leeds,  who  used  to  pump  water  from 
a  well  with  wonderful  dexterity,  for  his  own  use,  by  taking  the 
handle  in  his  mouth,  and  working  it  with  his  head,  in  imitation 
of  his  groom  ;  he  also  was  taught  to  open  and  shut  the  gate 
for  himself.  In  this  connection,  we  might  refer  to  the  mule, 
the  zebra,  and  the  poor,  despised  ass,  as  exhibiting  exam 
ples  of  patience  under  suffering  and  burdens — for,  with 
the  exception  of  the  beautiful  .yet  untamed  zebra,  they  have 
been  subjected  to  severe  tests  in  this  respect.  The  ass,  indeed, 
seems  almost  behind  the  age,  his  movements  being  too  tardy, 
and  his  laggard  pace  being  rendered  the  more  marked  by  the 
lightning  speed  of  the  locomotive.  Although  almost  unknown 
to  us,  yet,  in  early  times,  and  in  the  East,  his  fame  was  in  the 
ascendant;  and  it  will  be  recollected  this  was  the  animal  chosen 
by  the  Saviour  when  He  made  his  entry  into  Jerusalem.  This 
demure-looking  and  docile  creature  retains  a  strong  love  of  home, 
and  is  also  possessed  of  no  mean  share  of  intelligence,  although 
his  name  is  made  synonymous  with  stupidity.  It  is  true,  he  is  some 
times  obstinate,  and  addicted  to  kicking  ;  but  he  is,  in  this 
particular,  no  worse  than  many  a  biped  under  circumstances  of 
like  provocation.  Another  zoological  specimen  which  we 
propose  to  introduce  to  the  notice  of  the  reader  is  the  cat — 
a  sort  of  counterpart  to  the  dog  in  most  domestic  establish 
ments.  Cats  have  the  reputation  of  great  vital  tenacity — the 
possession  of  nine  lives  ;  and  juveniles  seem  by  common  con 
sent  resolved  to  test  the  fact.  The  cat  also  has  the  wretched 
reputation  of  always  falling  upon  her  feet,  from  whatever 
height  she  may  be  thrown,  and  many  a  cruel  experiment  has 
been  made  to  ascertain  that  fact.  We  repeat  that  people 
having  a  taste  for  clogs  are  seldom  catholic  enough  in  their 
animal  fondness  to  extend  it  to  cats.  You  never  heard  of 
drowning  dogs,  or  pelting  dogs,  or  having  dogs  worried  for 
mere  amusement.  The  creature's  more  conspicuous  gifts  are 
appreciated  by  those  rougher-judging  estimates,  which  are 
unable  to  make  out  the  subtler  delicacies  of  the  cat  orgauiza- 


296  BALAD   FOH   THE   SOCIAL. 


tion.  The  man  with  a  prime  terrier  for  rats — or  a  mastiff 
which  can  throttle  a  bull-dog — or  a  houud  which  can  pull 
down  a  red-deer — or  even  a  poodle  which  can  sit  upon  its  hind 
legs  and  yelp  at  the  word  of  command — not  one  of  these 
amateurs  but  will  discover  and  admire  the  points  and  motions 
of  the  creatures  while  performing  these  achievements ;  but  it  is 
twenty  to  one  that  they  never  studied,  or  never  thought  it 
worth  while  studying,  one  of  the  most  perfectly  graceful  things 
beneath  the  sun — a  cat  curving  herself  for  a  spring  ;  or  one 
of  the  most  dexterous  performances  which  animal  nature  is 
capable  of — a  cat  picking  her  way  among  a  series  either  of 
movable  or  hurtful  petty  articles,  without  touching  a  single 
one.* 

Cats  differ  as  much  in  character  as  human  beings  do;  and 
like  human  beings,  their  character  is  very  much  to  be  predi 
cated  from  their  countenances.  No  two  are  ever  seen  alike, 
and  they  vary  as  much  in  the  conformation  of  their  skulls  as 
do  the  different  races  of  mankind.  Southey,  in  his  "  Doctor," 
gives  a  curious  chapter  upon  the  cats  of  his  acquaintance — a 
chapter  in  which  humor  and  natural  history  are  agreeably  min 
gled  together;  ho  was  evidently  a  close  observer  of  the  habits 
of  poor  puss,  and  took  much  delight  in  the  whims,  frolics,  and 
peculiarities  of  his  favorites.  Proofs  of  the  domestication  and 
strong  attachment  of  the  cat  might  be  adduced  ad  nauseam. 
The  story  of  M.  Somnini  and  his  favorite  cat  may  be  recollected 
as  a  case  in  point:  "This  animal,"  he  writes,  "was  my  prin 
cipal  amusement  for  several  years:  how  vividly  was  the  expres 
sion  of  her  attachment  depicted  upon  her  countenance!  how 
many  times  have  her  tender  caresses  made  me  forget  my  trou 
bles,  and  consoled  me  in  my  misfortunes!  My  beautiful  and 
interesting  companion  at  length  perished:  after  several  days 
of  suffering,  during  which  I  never  forsook  her,  her  eyes,  con 
stantly  fixed  on  me,  were  at  length  extinguished;  and  her  loss 
has  rent  my  heart  with  grief."  Among  the  admirers  of  the 

*  Angus  B.  Reach. 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  297 


sleek  and  gentle  cat  may  be  mentioned  Mohammed,  Rousseau, 
Petrarch,  Johnson,  Cowper,  and  we  know  not  how  many  other 
illustrious  names.  Madame  Helvetius  had  a  favorite  cat,  which, 
at  the  death  of  her  mistress,  wandered  about  her  chamber,  mew 
ing  most  piteously,  and  after  the  body  was  consigned  to  the 
grave,  it  was  found  stretched  upon  the  tomb  lifeless,  having 
expired  from  excess  of  grief !  The  Earl  of  Southampton — 
companion  of  Essex  in  the  fatal  insurrection — having  been  con 
fined  some  time  in  the  Tower,  was  one  day  surprised  by  a  visit 
from  his  pet  cat,  which  is  said  to  have  reached  its  master  by 
descending  the  chimney  of  his  apartment.  The  following  anec 
dote  of  combined  attachment  and  sagacity,  equals  anything 
that  has  been  told  of  the  dog,  and  places  poor  pussy  in  a  much 
more  favorable  light  than  current  opinion  would  allow.  In 
the  summer  of  1800,  a  physician  of  Lyons  was  requested  to 
inquire  into  a  murder  that  had  been  committed  on  a  woman  of 
that  city.  He  accordingly  went  to  the  residence  of  the  deceased, 
where  he  found  her  extended  lifeless  on  the  floor,  weltering  in 
her  blood.  A  large  white  cat  was  mounted  on  the  cornice  of 
the  cupboard,  at  the  further  end  of  the  apartment,  where  he 
seemed  to  have  taken  refuge.  He  sat  motionless,  with  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  corpse,  and  his  attitude  and  looks  expressing  hor 
ror  and  affright:  the  following  morning  the  animal  was  found 
in  precisely  the  same  state,  and  when  the  room  was  filled  with 
officers  of  justice,  he  still  remained  apparently  transfixed  to  the 
spot.  As  soon,  however,  as  the  suspected  persons  were  brought 
in,  his  eyes  glared  with  increased  fury,  his  hair  bristled,  and  he 
darted  precipitately  from  the  room.  The  countenances  of  the 
assassins  were  disconcerted,  and  they  now,  for  the  first  time 
during  the  whole  course  of  the  horrid  transaction,  felt  their 
atrocious  audacity  forsake  them.  No  experiment,  says  a 
recent  writer,  can  be  more  beautiful  than  that  of  setting  a 
kitten  for  the  first  time  before  a  looking-glass;  the  little  crea 
ture  appears  surprised  and  pleased  with  the  resemblance,  and 


298  SALAD      FOK     THE      SOCIAL. 


makes  several  attempts  at  touching  its  new  acquaintance:  and 
at  length,  finding  its  efforts  fruitless,  it  looks  behind  the  glass, 
and  appears  highly  astonished  at  the  absence  of  the  figure. 
This  certainly  evinces  a  degree  of  intelligence.  We  might 
instance  cases  in  which  the  reasoning  process  appears  to  be 
exhibited;  but  let  the  following,  related  by  Dr.  Sniellie,  in 
which  ingenuity  of  performance  .was  combined  with  sagacity, 
suffice.  "  A  cat  frequented  a  closet,  the  door  of  which  was 
fastened  by  a  common  iron  latch ;  a  window  was  situated  near 
the  door:  when  the  door  was  shut,  the  cat  gave  herself  no 
uneasiness,  for  so  soon  as  she  was  tired  of  her  confinement,  she 
mounted  on  the  sill  of  the  window,  and  with  her  paws  dexter 
ously  lifted  the  latch  and  came  out.  Tiiis  practice  she  conti 
nued  for  years."  Many  instances  of  the  kind  are  upon  record; 
let  one,  however,  suffice — of  a  cat,  who,  having  been  neglected 
at  the  regular  dinner  hour,  which  was  usually  announced 
by  the  ringing  of  the  bell,  would  agitate  the  bell-wire. 
The  sagacity  of  the  feline  race  is  so  clearly  evinced  in  the  fol 
lowing  anecdote,  that  we  cannot  help  inserting  it.  "  Mr. 
Tiedeman,  the  famous  Saxon  dentist,  had  a  valuable  tortoise- 
shell  cat,  that  for  days  did  nothing  but  moan  Guessing  the 
cause,  he  looked  into  its  mouth,  and  seeing  a  decayed  tooth, 
soon  relieved  it  of  its  pain.  The  following  day  there  were  at 
least  ten  cats  at  his  door — the  day  after,  twenty;  and  they 
went  on  increasing  at  such  a  rate  that  he  was  obliged  to  keep 
a  bull-dog  to  drive  them  away.  But  nothing  would  help  them. 
A  cat  who  had  the  tooth-ache  would  come  any  number  of  miles 
to  him.  It  would  come  down  the  chimney  even,  and  not  leave 
the  room  till  he  had  taken  its  tooth  oat.  It  grew  such  a 
nuisance  at  last,  that  he  was  never  free  from  one  of  these 
feline  patients.  However,  being  one  morning  very  nervous, 
he  accidentally  broke  the  jaw  of  an  old  tabby.  The  news  of 
this  spread  like  wildfire.  Not  a  single  cat  ever  came  to  him 
afterwards.  It  is  extraordinary  how  the  cats,  in  the  above 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  299 


instances,  acted  like  human  beings.  It  is  so  extraordinary,  indeed, 
that  we  think  we  must  have  reached  the  culminating  point  of 
our  illustrations  of  animal  instincts. 

We  now  propose  to  draw  our  illustrations  from  the  history  of 
the  insect  and  feathered  tribes.  Although  one  of  the  minutest  of 
living  things,  yet  as  the  ant  is  placed  by  the  inspired  writer  among 
the  "four  things  which  are  little  upon  the  earth,  but  exceeding 
wise;"  and  as  it  is  the  lessons  of  wisdom  or  prudence,  which  the 
habitsof  this  interesting  littlecreaturesostrikinglyillustrate,  that 
we  wish  to  present,  we  shall  take  a  brief  survey  of  its  peculiarities. 
Insignificant  and  unimportant  as  it  may  seem  to  the  unthinking 
observer,  the  ant  has  engaged  the  scrutiny  and  curious  study 
of  some  of  the  greatest  minds.  With  the  single  exception  of 
its  associate,  the  "  busy  bee,"  it  is  unrivalled  for  its  activity, 
industry,  and  its  social  economy;  and  to  such  an  universal 
extent  has  it  attracted  human  observation,  that  its  name  has  long 
since  passed  into  the  synonym  for  virtue.  The  sluggard  is  told 
to  observe  the  ant,  "to  consider  her  ways,  and  be  wise;"  the 
prodigal  to  imitate  her  thrift;  the  young  are  told  that  she 
"  provideth  her  meat  in  the  summer,  and  gathereth  her  food 
in  the  harvest;"  and  the  unruly  and  turbulent  have  a  powerful 
monitor  in  the  harmony  of  her  busy  communities.  These 
traits  are  amongst  the  cardinal  virtues — indeed  they  form 
the  bases  of  all  human  happiness.  The  value  of  prudence 
is  so  apparent,  that  without  it  even  the  most  unremitting 
industry  would  prove  of  no  avail.  To  find  their  excellence, 
therefore,  so  beautifully  illustrated  in  this,  one  of  the  tiniest  of 
created  beings,  may  well  excite  our  wonder  and  warmly  enlist 
our  interest.  Ants  have  parental,  filial,  and  social  affections 
aud  sympathies,  and  they  are  supposed  by  Huber  to  hold  inter 
course  with  each  other  by  signs  and  the  sense  of  touch.  And 
as  to  their  fruits  of  industry,  in  some  countries  their  hills  are 
twenty  feet  in  height,  and  in  Sweden,  they  erect  structures 
which  Dr.  Clarke  considers  far  more  wonderful  iu  their  propor 
tion,  than  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt.  According  to  the  arrange- 


300  SALAD    TOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


merit  of  entomologists,  ants  form  the  seventh  family  of  Hyme- 
nopterous  insects,  those  having  four  membranous  wings;  this 
may  surprise  those  who  have  been  accustomed  to  regard  them 
merely  as  wingless  creatures,  that  burrow  in  little  hillocks,  but 
the  discrepancy  will  disappear  when  it  is  recollected  that,  like 
other  social  insects,  ants  are  of  three  sexes,  and  that  it  is  only 
the  perfect  sexes  that  are  furnished  with  wings — those  of  the 
neuter  gender,  called  workers,  being  without.  The  first 
class  form  but  a  small  proportion  to  the  latter;  the  first-named 
being  devoted  to  the  re-production  of  their  race,  and  the  vast 
numbers  of  the  wingless  insect  to  the  construction  of  their 
ingeniously-contrived  dwellings,  and  the  social  duties  of  their 
several  communities  or  colonies.  There  are  numerous  species 
of  ants,  distinguished  by  their  size  and  color,  but  chiefly  by 
their  habits.  Paramount  with  the  erection  of  their  habitations 
and  the  procuring  of  food,  is  the  assiduous  care  they  bestow 
upon  their  young,  which  usually  extends,  not  only  for  a  few 
days,  but  even  weeks,  and  sometimes  months.  If  an  ant-hill  be 
molested,  the  first  care  of  the  workers  is  to  protect  the  young; 
and  they  may  be  seen  running  about  in  a  state  of  distraction, 
each  carrying  a  juvenile,  frequently  as  big  as  itself.  Ants 
swarm  once  or  twice  a  summer,  when  the  youngsters  build  new 
habitations  for  themselves,  and  live  together  in  the  same  social 
and  orderly  manner  as  their  progenitors.  The  females  are  the 
queen-mothers;  but  whether  there  is  only  one  queen,  as  among 
bees,  or  several,  is  not  determined  by  naturalists;  the  latter  is 
thought  most  probable.  The  neuters  or  workers  arc  true 
republicans,  for  they  enjoy  equal  immunities  and  do  all  that  is 
to  be  done  of  actual  toil;  and  yet,  if  nature  has  assigned  to 
them  their  allotted  labor,  she  has  also  bequeathed  -to  them  a 
longer  lease  of  existence,  for  after  the  winged  males  and  females 
have  left  the  hive  in  summer,  a  few  days  of  "aerial  dalliance" 
limit  the  term  of  their  natural  being.  The  little  conical  mounds, 
familiarly  called  "  ant-hills,"  evince  wonderful  architectural 
ingenuity  and  skill;  with  their  arched  galleries,  domes,  pillars, 


THE      MUTE       CREATIOX.  301 


and  partitions,  which  rise  in  pyramidal  succession.  As  these 
nests  are  liable  to  be  destroyed  by  heavy  rains,  by  the  acci 
dental  tread  of  colossal  man,  and  also  require  to  be  enlarged  as 
the  colony  increases,  the  labor  of  re-constructing  or  repairing 
affords  an  endless  round  of  busy  entertainment  to  these  indus 
trious  little  workers.  Their  cells  have  none  of  the  geometrical 
regularity  so  much  admired  in  the  combs  of  the  honey-bee;  and 
as  they  do  not,  therefore,  like  their  sweet  neighbors,  necessarily 
act  in  concert,  they  may  often  be  found  working  at  cross-pur 
poses.  Such  an  occurrence  does  not  seem,  however,  much  to 
disconcert  them;  for,  more  sagacious  than  human  blunderers, 
no  sooner  does  an  ant  discover  his  mistake,  than  he  sets  to  work  to 
undo  what  he  has  erected,  and  follows  instinctively  that  por 
tion  of  the  plan  which  was  more  advanced  than  his  own.  In 
general,  however,  when  ants,  according  to  Huber,  commence 
any  important  undertaking,  they  convene  a  council  in  their  own 
way,  to  deliberate  upon  some  concerted  plan  of  action,  for  the 
result  seems  to  indicate  the  existence  of  design  and  a  precon 
ceived  idea.  The  actual  mode  of  working  of  these  insects  has 
been  examined  by  the  ingenious  entomologist  just  referred  to. 
According  to  his  observances,  there  were  two  or  three  small 
openings  on  the  surface  of  the  nest,  but  none  of  the  laborers 
were  seen  to  pass  out  that  way,  on  account  of  their  being  too 
much  exposed  to  the  sun,  which  these  insects  dread;  for  when 
the  freshness  of  the  air,  and  the  dew  invited  the  ants  to  take  a 
walk,  or  survey  their  performances,  they  made  new  apertures. 

"  I  remarked,"  says  our  naturalist,  "  that  their  habitations 
changed  in  appearance  hourly,  and  that  the  diameter  of  those 
spacious  avenues,  where  so  many  ants  could  freely  pass  each 
other  during  the  day,  was,  as  night  approached,  gradually 
lessened.  The  aperture  at  length  totally  disappeared,  the  dome 
was  closed  on  all  sides,  and  the  ants  retired  to  the  bottom  of 
their  nest. 

"  In  further  noticing  the  apertures  of  these  ant-hills,  I  fully 
ascertained  the  nature  of  the  labor  of  its  inhabitants,  of  which 


302  SALAD   FOR  THE   SOCIAL. 


I  could  not  before  even  guess  the  purport  ;  for  the  surface  of 
the  nest  presented  such  a  constant  scene  of  agitation,  and  so 
many  insects  were  occupied  in  carrying  materials  in  every 
direction,  that  the  movement  offered  no  other  image  than  that 
of  confusion. 

"  I  saw  then  clearly  that  they  were  engaged  in  stopping  up 
passages  ;  and  for  this  purpose  they  at  first  brought  forward 
little  pieces  of  wood,  which  they  deposited  near  the  entrance 
of  those  avenues  they  wished  to  close  ;  they  placed  them  in  the 
stubble  ;  and  then  went  to  seek  other  twigs  and  fragments  of 
wood,  which  they  disposed  above  the  first,  but  in  a  different 
direction,  and  appeared  to  choose  pieces  of  less  size  in  propor 
tion  as  the  work  advanced.  They  at  length  brought  in  a  num 
ber  of  dried  leaves,  and  other  materials  of  an  enlarged  form, 
with  which  they  covered  the  roof — an  exact  miniature  of  the 
art  of  our  builders,  when  they  form  the  covering  of  any  build 
ing  !  Nature,  indeed,  seems  everywhere  to  have  anticipated 
the  inventions  of  which  we  boast,  and  this  is  doubtless  one  of 
the  most  simple.  Our  little  insects,  now  safely  in  their  nest, 
retire  gradually  to  the  interior  before  the  last  passages  are 
closed  ;  one  or  two  only  remain  without,  or  concealed  behind 
the  doors  on  guard,  while  the  rest  either  take  their  repose,  or 
engage  in  different  occupations  in  the  most  perfect  security. 
I  was  impatient  to  know  what  took  place  in  the  morning  upon 
these  ant-hills,  and  therefore  visited  them  at  an  early  hour.  I 
found  them  in  the  same  state  in  which  I  had  left  them  the  pre 
ceding  evening.  A  few  ants  were  wandering  about  on  the  sur 
face  of  the  nest,  some  others  issued  from  time  to  time  from 
under  the  margin  of  their  little  roofs  formed  at  the  entrance  of 
the  galleries;  others  afterward  came  forth,  who  began  removing 
the  wooden  bars  that  blockaded  the  entrance,  in  which  they 
readily  succeeded.  This  labor  occupied  them  several  hours. 
The  passages  were  at  length  free,  and  the  materials  with  which 
they  had  been  closed  scattered  here  and  thece  over  the  ant-hill. 
Every  day,  morning  and  evening,  during  the  fine  weather,  I 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  303 


was  a  witness  to  similar  proceedings.  On  days  of  rain,  the 
doors  of  all  the  ant-hills  remained  closed.  When  the  sky  was 
cloudy  in  the  morning,  or  rain  was  indicated,  the  ants,  who 
seemed  to  be  aware  of  it,  opened  but  in  part  their  several 
avenues,  and  immediately  closed  them  when  the  rain  com 
menced.  Could  the  most  enlightened  reason,  which  ascribes 
such  procedure  to  mere  animal  instinct,  have  done  more  ?'' 

The  several  species  of  ants  found  in  warm  countries  are 
indeed  so  numerous  that  volumes  might  be  devoted  to  the 
delineation  of  their  character  and  habits,  which  in  most 
instances  are  marked  by  the  finest  displays  of  instinctive  saga 
city.  We  need  not,  however,  attempt  even  their  enumeration; 
for  "  every  group  of  plants  has  particular  species,  and  many 
trees  are  the  exclusive  abode  of  a  kind  that  does  not  occur  any 
where  else  ;"  it  may  safely  be  admitted,  therefore,  that  ants 
are  amongst  the  most  numerous  forms  of  life  on  the  globe, 
teeming  as  it  is  with  animated  existence.  That  such  an  insig 
nificant,  though  ingenious  insect,  should  have  been  regarded  as 
the  standard  emblem  of  foresight,"  industry,  and  perseverance — 
whether  the  result  of  unreasoning  instinct,  or  of  indubitable 
sagacity — need  not  excite  our  surprise,  although  it  may  well 
elicit  our  profound  admiration. 

Many  speculations  have  been  recently  broached  respecting 
the  conditions  of  insect  life.  Some  appear  to  regard  them  as 
endowed  with  the  attributes  of  human  reason  in  a  modified 
degree  ;  others  admit  the  perfection  of  their  senses,  and  ascribe 
their  conduct  to  instinct ;  while  a  third  class  will  allow  them 
neither  sense  nor  feeling,  but  consider  them  mere  animated 
machines,  as  it  were,  propelled  in  all  their  movements  by  a 
power  they  cannot  control.  With  the  latter  class  the  writh- 
ings  of  a  trampled  emrnet  are  not  evidences  of  pain,  any  more 
than  the  movement  of  its  antennae  or  feelers  is  of  touch,  or  the 
direction  of  its  eyes  of  sight.  In  fact,  they  deny  insects  the  use 
of  these  organs  altogether — a  doctrine  which  will  receive  but 
few  adherents  ;  for  however  much  their  organs  of  sense  may 


304  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


differ  from  those  of  man,  it  is  clear  that  they  were  not  given 
without  some  function  to  fulfill.  It  is  absurd,  of  course, 
to  ascribe  memory,  reflection,  and  the  like,  to  creatures  which 
have  no  brain  ;  but  it  is  equally  absurd,  seeing  that  these  crea 
tures  avoid  obstacles,  evince  symptoms  of  pain,  have  a  choice 
in  food,  and  so  forth,  to  suppose  that  their  organs  are  not  capa 
ble  of  sight,  touch,  and  taste.  Their  sensations  may  be  very 
different  from  those  of  other  animals,  just  as  their  organization 
is  different ;  but  whatever  they  are,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of 
their  perfect  aptitude  to  direct  the  animal  in  its  manifold  and 
highly  curious  operations. 

We  leave,  however,  the  learned  to  settle  a  subject  so 
involved  and  subtle,  and  proceed  to  give  an  illustrative  anec 
dote,  selected  from  many  that  might  be  adduced,  of  the  inge 
nuity  of  this  curious  little  creature  in  removing  obstacles. 

A  gentleman  of  Cambridge  one  day  observed  an  ant 
dragging  along  what,  with  respect  to  the  creature's  strength, 
might  be  denominated  a  log  of  timber.  Others  were  severally 
employed,  each  in  its  own  way.  Presently  the  ant  in  question 
came  to  an  ascent,  where  the  weight  of  the  wood  seemed  for  a 
while  to  overpower  him :  he  did  not  remain  long  perplexed 
with  it,  for  three  or  four  others,  observing  his  dilemma,  came 
behind  and  pushed  it  up.  As  soon,  however,  as  he  had  got  it 
on  level  ground,  they  left  it  to  his  care,  and  went  to  their  own 
work.  The  piece  he  was  drawing  happened  to  be  considerably 
thicker  at  one  end  than  the  other.  This  soon  threw  the  poor 
fellow  into  a  fresh  difficulty  :  he  unluckily  dragged  it  between 
two  bits  of  wood.  After  several  fruitless  efforts,  finding  it 
would  not  go  through,  he  adopted  the  only  mode  that  even  a 
man  in  similar  circumstances  would  have  taken  :  he  came 
behind  it,  pulled  it  back  again,  and  turned  it  on  its  edge;  when, 
running  again  to  the  other  end,  it  passed  through  without  the 
least  difficulty. 

Some  Indian  species,  according  to  an  anecdote  related  by 
Col.  Sykes.  exhibit  feats  of  dexterity  which  one  can  scarcely 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  305 


ascribe  to  mere  instinctive  sagacity.  It  is  known,  perhaps, 
that  ants,  like  cats,  have  a  repugnance  to  water  ;  to  prevent 
their  approach,  therefore,  the  legs  of  a  well-garnished  sideboard 
of  sweets  were  immersed  in  water  and  detached  from  the  wall  ; 
notwithstanding  this  precaution,  however,  they  committed  their 
depredations  upon  the  colonel's  good  things.  He  was  curious 
to  discover  their  mode  of  effecting  their  purpose,  and  he  accord 
ingly  watched  the  process.  He  observed  a  solitary  ant  climb 
ing  quietly  up  the  wall  of  the  room,  and  when  it  had  mounted 
to  rather  more  than  a  foot  above  the  level  of  the  sideboard,  it 
took  a  spring  to  the  sideboard  ;  soon  after,  others  followed  the 
example  of  their  pioneer,  and  each,  with  like  success,  safely 
reached  their  tempting  bait,  and  presently  a  host  of  these  car 
nivorous  little  epicures  were  regaling  themselves  upon  the  luxu 
rious  repast.  Sagacious  and  dexterous  as  this  interesting 
fraternity  are  seen  to  be,  we  meet  with  an  amusing  instance  of 
their  folly  and  want  of  concert. 

"  A  wise  and  laborious  ant  was  toiling  up  the  bark  of  a 
chestnut-tree,  and  pulling  after  him  an  entire  snail-shell,  the 
size  of  a  hazel-nut.  He  halted  occasionally  as  well  he  might, 
but  he  never  lost  hold  of  the  shell,  though  the  mere  weight  of 
it,  one  should  have  thought,  would  have  pulled  his  mandibles 
out  of  joint.  In  a  few  minutes  he  had  raised  it  upwards  of 
three  feet,  and  all  was  going  on  prosperously,  when  it  so 
chanced  that  three  or  four  idlers  of  the  ant  kind,  and  presently 
as  many  more,  met  him  on  his  way.  Our  laborer  had  almost 
done  his  work  ;  his  hind-legs  were  already  within  the  hole  into 
which  it  was  his  plain  purpose  to  introduce  the  shell,  when  the 
new-comers  (who,  as  we  have  seen,  are  always  ready  to  help 
one  another)  proceeded  to  do  just  the  reverse  !  They  got  upon 
the  shell,  they  entered  it,  they  persisted  in  sticking  to  it :  he 
could  not  carry  it  ;  and  then  the  shell  swerved  to  one  side  or 
the  other,  according  to  the  disposal  of  his  friends  within,  who 
had  not  even  the  sense  to  trim  the  boat  ;  still,  by  great  exer 
tion,  he  held  fast,  and  might  perhaps  have  accomplished  his 


306  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


task,  when  two  more  strangers  thought  proper  to  contribute 
their  weight,  and  brought  on  the  catastrophe.  The  weary  but 
persevering  insect  was  obliged  to  '  let  go,'  and  the  shell, 
freighted  with  three  'insides'  and  half-a-dozen  'outs,'  fell  to 
the  ground  !  They  left  the  conveyance  in  apparent  alarm,  and 
scampered  off  in  all  directions,  while  he  remained  for  some  time 
fixed  to  the  spot  of  his  discomfiture.  The  shell  being  subse 
quently  examined,  was  found  exactly  to  fit  the  hole  in  the 
direction  in  which  the  ant  was  dragging  it,  and  in  no  other." 

Ants  possess  not  only  an  acute  faculty  of  scent,  they  also 
have  a  mode  of  communicating  intelligence  by  certain  motions 
of  their  antennae,  or  prominent  organs  attached  to  their  heads. 
A  nest  of  ants  in  a  nobleman's  garden  discovered  a  closet,  many 
yards  within  the  house,  in  which  conserves  were  kept,  which 
they  constantly  attended  till  the  nest  was  destroyed.  Some,  in 
their  rambles,  must  have  first  discovered  this  depot  of  sweets, 
and  informed  the  rest  of  it.  It  is  remarkable  that  they  always 
went  to  it  by  the  same  track,  scarcely  varying  an  inch  from  it, 
though  they  had  to  pass  through  two  apartments  ;  nor  could 
the  sweeping  and  cleaning  of  the  rooms  discomfit  them,  or 
cause  them  to  pursue  a  different  route.  Here  the  insects  per- 
severingly  followed  the  same  track,  a  fact  which  leads  one  to 
suspect  that  they  leave  some  scent  or  trace  perceptible  to  one 
another.  The  ingenuity  and  intelligence  discovered  in  their 
actions,  whether  single  or  combined,  are  indeed  so  surprising, 
that  the  Mahommedans  have  even  assigned  them  a  place  in 
their  heaven.  It  has  been  said,  no  man  is  hopelessly  bad  who 
can  laugh  :  if  we  extend  the  application  of  the  proposition,  it 
may  not  be  absurd  to  humanize  their  conduct,  and  to  sup 
pose  these  little  specks  of  being  capable  of  generous  emotions 
and  sympathies,  if  we  judge  by  their  evident  habits  of  sport- 
iveness. 

"  Whether  ants,"  says  Mr.  Kirby,  "  with  man  and  some  of 
the  larger  animals,  experience  anything  like  attachment  to 
individuals,  is  not  easily  ascertained  ;  but  that  they  feel  the 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  807 


full  force  of  the  sentiment  which  we  terra  patriotism,  or  the 
love  of  the  community  to  which  they  belong,  is  evident  from 
the  whole  series  of  their  proceedings,  which  all  tend  to  promote 
the  general  good.  Distress  or  difficulty  falling  upon  any 
member  of  their  society  generally  excites  their  sympathy,  and 
they  do  their  utmost  to  relieve  it.  M.  Latreille  once  cut  off 
the  antenna?  of  an  ant  ;  and  its  companions,  evidently  pitying 
its  sufferings,  anointed  the  wounded  part  with  a  drop  of  trans 
parent  fluid  from  their  mouth  :  and  whoever  attends  to  what 
is  going  forward  in  the  neighborhood  of  one  of  their  nests,  will 
be  pleased  to  observe  the  readiness  with  which  they  seem  dis 
posed  to  assist  each  other  in  difficulties.  When  a  burden  is  too 
heavy  for  one,  another  will  soon  come  to  ease  it  of  part  of  the 
weight ;  and  if  one  is  threatened  with  an  attack,  all  hasten  to 
the  spot  to  join  in  repelling  it." 

We  now  return  to  the  examples  of  economy  and  thrift  as 
evinced  in  the  habits  of  the  bee.  In  all  ages,  bees  have  claimed 
the  admiration  of  mankind  as  patterns  of  industry,  economy, 
cheerfulness,  and  ingenuity.  "Wise  iu  their  government,  dili 
gent  and  active  in  their  employments,  devoted  to  their  young 
and  to  their  queen,  the  bees  read  a  lecture  to  man  that  exem 
plifies  their  Oriental  name  "  Deburah — she  that  speaketh."  In 
tracing  some  of  the  peculiar  habits  and  characteristics  of  this 
useful  insect,  we  may  possibly  acquire  fresh  incentives  to  the 
cultivation  of  one  of  the  essential  virtues.  "  A  bee  amongst  the 
flowers  of  spring,"  says  Paley,  "  is  one  of  the  cheerfulest  objects 
that  can  be  looked  upon:  its  life  appears  to  be  all  enjoyment — 
so  busy  and  so  pleased."  Would  that  the  like  sunny  smile 
of  cheerful  contentedness  shed  its  radiance  over  the  brow  of 
toiling  humanity:  how  many  a  secret  sorrow  would  it  assuage, 
how  many  a  weary  hour  would  it  beguile,  and  how  much  would 
it  tend  to  enhance  the  aggregate  of  human  happiness.  What 
valuable  lessons  of  thrift  and  economy  are  to  be  learned  from  the 
habits  of  the  "busy  bee."  Bees  belong  to  the  same  genera 
with  ants:  a  colony  of  the  former,  occupying  a  hive,  consists, 


308  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


besides  the  young  brood,  of  one  female  or  queen,  several  hun 
dreds  of  males  or  drones,  and  many  thousand  workers.  This 
insect  is  so  familiar  to  all,  that  it  will  not  be  necessary  for  us  to 
refer  to  its  peculiarity  of  structure,  further  than  to  state  that 
the  worker  is  invested  with  an  extra  stomach,  which  is  called 
the  honey-bag,  in  which  it  deposits  the  sweets  or  saccharine 
matter  it  collects  from  blossoms,  fruits,  and  flowers.  "  The 
most  profound  philosopher,  equally  with  the  most  incurious 
mortals,"  says  Kirby,  "is  struck  with  astonishment  on  inspect 
ing  the  interior  of  a  bee-hive:  he  beholds  a  city  in  miniature. 
He  sees  this  city  divided  into  regular  streets,  these  streets 
composed  of  houses  constructed  on  the  most  exact  geometrical 
principles,  and  the  most  symmetrical  plan — some  serving  for 
storehouses  for  food,  others  for  the  habitations  of  the  citizens, 
and  a  few,  much  more  extensive  than  the  rest,  destined  for  the 
palaces  of  the  sovereign.  He  perceives  that  the  substance  of 
which  the  whole  city  is  built,  is  one  which  man,  with  all  his 
skill,  is  unable  to  fabricate;  and  that  the  edifices  are  such  as 
the  most  expert  artist  would  find  himself  incompetent  to  erect: 
yet  the  whole  is  the  work  of  a  society  of  mere  insects!" 
Shakspeare  has  thus  sketched  the  subject: — 

"  So  work  the  honey-bees  ; 
Creatures,  that  by  a  rule  in  nature,  teach 
The  art  of  order  to  a  peopled  kingdom. 
They  have  a  king,  and  officers  of  sorts : 
"Where  some,  like  magistrates,  correct  at  home ; 
Others,  like  merchants,  venture  trade  abroad ; 
Others,  like  soldiers,  armed  in  their  stings, 
Make  boot  upon  the  summer's  velvet  buds ; 
Which  pillage  they  with  merry  march  bring  home 
To  the  tent-royal  of  their  emperor : 
Who,  busied  in  his  majesty,  surveys 
The  singing  masons  building  roofs  of  gold; 
The  civil  citizens  kneading  up  the  honey, 
The  poor  mechanic  porters  crowding  in 
Their  heavy  burdens  at  his  narrow  gate ; 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  309 


The  sad-eyed  justice,  with  his  surly  hum, 
Delivering  o'er  to  executor's  pale 
The  lazy  yawning  drone/' 

A  number  of  honey-combs,  composed  of  cells  for  the  most 
part  hexagonal  or  six-sided,  regularly  applied  to  each  other's 
sides,  and  arranged  in  two  strata  or  layers,  placed  end  to  end, 
are  fixed  to  the  upper  part  and  sides  of  the  interior  of  the  hive. 
These  combs  are  arranged  vertically  at  a  small  distance  from 
each  other,  so  that  the  cells  composing  them  are  placed  in  a 
horizontal  position,  and  have  their  openings  in  different  direc 
tions.  The  distance  between  the  combs  is  about  half  an  inch, 
sufficient  to  allow  two  bees  to  pass  each  other  easily:  besides 
these  vacancies,  the  combs  are  here  and  there  pierced  with  holes, 
which  serve  as  a  means  of  communication  from  one  comb  to 
another,  without  losing  time  by  going  round.  In  the  construc 
tion  of  these  cells,  the  singular  skill  of  this  ingenious  insect  is 
displayed  in  their  strength  and  perfect  adaptation,  and  the 
economy  of  the  wax,  of  which  they  are  composed,  as  well  as 
of  the  space  they  occupy.  The  patient  processes  by  which  they 
construct  these  cells  no  less  evince  their  unremitting  diligence 
and  skill.  As  soon  as  the  cells  are  ready  for  their  reception, 
the  queen-bee  proceeds  to  deposit  her  eggs,  and  such  is  the 
astonishing  fecundity  of  this  insect,  that,  according  to  entomolo 
gists,  it  has  been  known  in  a  single  season  to  produce  the  sur 
prising  number  of  one  hundred  thousand.  On  the  expiration 
of  four  days,  the  infant  bee  makes  its  appearance,  when  the 
nurse-bees  immediately  tender  their  services,  very  assiduously 
supplying  it  with  food.  After  five  days  more,  the  attendants 
seal  up  the  cells  with  wax,  when  the  inclosed  nurseling  spins  in 
security  its  cocoon:  in  all  these  labors  neither  the  queen  nor 
the  drones  render  any  assistance;  they  are  performed  exclusively 
by  the  workers,  as  in  the  case  of  the  ants.  In  escaping  from 
its  cradle,  which  is  generally  about  the  third  week,  without  any 
previous  instruction,  full  of  life,  and  buoyant  with  vigor,  it  takes 
its  first  flight;  visits,  like  the  rest,  the  subjects  of  Flora,  absorbs 


310  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


their  ueetar,  covers  itself  with  their  ambrosial  dust,  and  returns, 
when  tired  of  its  gay  gambols  and  delightful  toils,  richly  freighted 
with  sweets,  to  contribute  its  mite  to  the  general  stock  of  the 
colony.  Many  amusing  if  not  extravagant  stories  are  given  by 
naturalists,  respecting  the  exceeding  loyalty  of  bees  to  their 
queen;  their  passion  for  monarchy  indeed  brings  them  into  near 
connection  with  the  auts.  The  following  anecdote  will  illustrate 
this:  "  A  young  girl  of  my  acquaintance,"  says  the  narrator,  "was 
greatly  afraid  of  bees,  and  she  became  completely  cured  of  her 
timidity  by  the  following  incident.  A  swarm  having  come.off, 
I  observed  the  queen  alight  by  herself  at  a  little  distance  from 
the  apiary;  I  immediately  called  my  little  friend,  that  I  might 
show  her  the  queen;  she  wished  to  inspect  her  more  closely; 
so,  having  caused  her  to  put  on  her  gloves,  I  gave  the  queen 
into  her  hand.  We  were  in  an  instant  surrounded  by  the 
whole  bees  of  the  swarm.  In  this  emergency  I  encouraged 
the  girl  to  be  steady,  bidding  her  to  be  silent  and  to  fear 
nothing,  and  remaining  myself  close  by  her;  I  then  made 
her  stretch  out  her  right  hand,  which  held  the  queen,  and  cov 
ered  her  head  and  shoulders  with  a  very  thin  handkerchief:  the 
swarm  soon  fixed  on  her  hand,  and  hung  from  it  as  from  the 
branch  of  a  tree.  The  little  girl  was  delighted  beyond  measure 
at  the  novel  sight,  and  so  entirely  freed  from  all  fear,  that  she 
bade  me  uncover  her  face.  The  spectators  were  charmed  by  the 
interesting  spectacle.  At  length,  I  brought  a  hive,  and  shaking 
the  swarm  from  the  child's  hand,  it  was  lodged  in  safety,  and 
without  inflicting  a  single  wound." 

As  an  illustration  of  what  may  be  accomplished  by  perse 
verance,  we  may  next  briefly  allude  to  the  habits  of  the  spider 
— a  creature  we  are  accustomed  to  regard  with  aversion,  but 
whose  beautiful  silken  net-work,  dotted  with  dew  and  sparkling 
in  the  sunshine,  affords  traces  of  exquisite  skill  and  patient 
toil. 

The  busy  hive  of  human  industry,  whether  in  the  depart 
ment  of  the  mechanic  arts,  or  in  the  more  subtle  investiga- 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  311 


tions  of  pure  science,  has  its  counterpart,  as  we  have  seen,  in 
the  several  classes  of  the  subordinate  creation.  An  ingenious 
writer  thus  attempts  their  analogy  :  "  Spiders  are  geometri 
cians,  as  are  also  bees,  whose  cells  are  so  constructed  as,  with 
the  least  quantity  of  material,  to  have  the  largest  sized  spaces 
and  the  least  possible  loss  of  interstices  ;  the  mole  is  a  meteo 
rologist  ;  the  nautilus  is  a  navigator,  for  he  raises  and  lowers 
his  sails,  casts  and  weighs  anchor,  and  performs  other  nautical 
evolutions  ;  while  the  whole  tribe  of  birds  are  musicians.  The 
beaver  may  be  called  a  builder  or  architect  ;  the  marmot  is  a 
civil  engineer,  for  he  not  only  constructs  houses  and  aqueducts, 
but  also  drains  to  keep  them  dry  ;  caterpillars  are  silk-spin 
ners  ;  wasps  are  paper  manufacturers  ;  the  bird  plocens  textor 
is  a  weaver  ;  the  indefatigable  ants  are  day-laborers  ;  the 
monkey  a  rope-dancer  ;  dogs  are  hunters  ;  pigs,  scavengers  ; 
and  the  torpedo  and  eel  are  electricians  or  shocking  animals. 
If  they  were  to  turn  authors,  it  has  been  suggested  the 
eagle  would  excel  in  epic  ;  the  sheep  in  pastoral  poetry  ; 
the  horse  in  chivalry  ;  the  elephant  in  philosophy  ;  the  cow 
in  agriculture  ;  the  dog  in  drama  ;  the  monkey  in  burlesque 
and  low  comedy  :  the  cat  in  sly  sarcasm  ;  the  goose  ia  ver 
bosity  ;  the  owl  in  epitaphs  and  elegies  ;  the  bear  in  waltzing; 
the  hog  in  philosophic  Bacon  ;  the  magpie  and  the  parrot  in 
plagiarism  ;  the  turkey  in  vanity. 

The  delicate  fabric  of  the  spider's  web  is  a  miracle  of  skill  ; 
although  so  fine  as  to  be  scarcely  visible  without  the  aid  of  a 
microscope,  the  spider's  thread  is  nevertheless  composed,  not 
of  a  single  line,  as  is  usually  supposed,  but,  as  we  learn  from 
good  authority,  of  not  less  than  four  thousand  strands.  And 
this  is  true  with  respect  to  spiders  not  larger  than  a  grain  of 
sand,  as  well  as  the  largest  specimens.  The  gauze-like  texture 
of  the  web  of  the  house-spider,  as  well  as  the  beautiful  net 
more  commonly  found  among  the  foliage,  composed  of  a  series 
of  concentric  circles,  united  by  radii  diverging  from  the  centre, 


312  SALAD   FOR   THE   SOCIAL. 


are  both  exquisite  specimens  of  insect  skill.  Not  only  in  the 
ingenious  construction  of  its  web,  the  meshes  of  which  are 
dexterously  spread  for  the  capture  of  its  prey,  does  the  spider 
evince  its  remarkable  habits  of  industrious  perseverance  ;  it  is 
also  endowed  with  a  strong  instinctive  love  of  its  offspring, 
and  discovers,  like  most  other  members  of  the  animal  creation, 
wonderful  fertility  of  invention.  Looking  abroad  into  the 
world,  how  incessantly  are  we  reminded  of  the  great  ruling 
condition  of  our  being,  that  of  activity  and  dilligence  ;  the 
book  of  Xature  ever  teaches  us  the  lesson.  Day  and  night, 
summer  and  winter,  cold  and  heat,  succeed  each  other  in  their 
untiring  course.  The  tides  of  ocean  and  the  rivers  ebb  and 
flow ;  the  endless  variety  of  the  vegetable  kingdom  is  ever 
changing  into  new  and  fresh  forms  of  beauty — flowers,  fruits, 
and  foliage,  and  all  animate  things  are  seen  disporting  in  air, 
earth,  and  water,  joyously  obedient  to  the  mandate,  and  bask 
ing  in  the  sunshine  of  their  beneficent  Creator. 

"  Man  thinks  that  he  stands  unrivalled  as  an  architect,  and 
that  his  productions  far  transcend  the  works  of  the  inferior 
order  of  animals.  He  would  be  of  a  different  opinion  did  he 
attend  to  the  history  of  insects;  he  would  find  that  many  of  them 
have  been  architects  from  time  immemorial ;  that  they  had  their 
houses  divided  into  various  apartments,  and  containing  staircases, 
elegant  arches,  domes,  colonnades,  and  the  like.  No  female 
ornament  is  more  prized  and  costly  than  lace,  the  invention  and 
fabrication  of  which,  seems  the  exclusive  claim  of  the  softer  sex. 
But  even  here  they  been  anticipated  by  these  little  industrious 
creatures,  who  often  defend  their  helpless  chrysalides  by  a  most 
singular  covering — and  as  beautiful  as  singular — of  lace.  Other 
arts  have  been  equally  forestalled  by  these  creatures.  We  ima 
gine  that  nothing  short  of  human  intellect  can  be  equal  to  the 
construction  of  a  diving  bell  or  air  pump — yet  a  spider  is  in 
the  daily  habit  of  using  the  one,  and  what  is  more,  one  exactly 
similar  in  principle  to  ours,  but  more  ingeniously  contrived  ; 


THE      MUTE      CREATION.  313 


by  means  of  which  she  resides  unwetted  in  the  bosotn  of  the 
water,  and  procures  the  necessary  supplies  of  air  by  a  much 
more  simple  process  than  our  alternating  buckets — and  the 
caterpillar  of  a  little  moth  knows  how  to  imitate  the  other, 
producing  a  vacuum,  when  necessary  for  its  purposes,  without 
any  piston  besides  its  own  body. 

"  If  we  think  with  wonder  of  the  populous  cities  which  have 
employed  the  united  labors  of  man  for  many  ages  to  bring 
them  to  their  full  extent,  what  shall  we  think  of  the  white  ants, 
which  require  only  a  few  months  to  build  a  metropolis  capable 
of  containing  an  infinitely  greater  number  of  inhabitants  than 
even  the  imperial  Nineveh,  Babylon,  or  Pekin,  in  all  their 
glory  ? 

"That  insects  should  thus  have  forestalled  us  in  our  inven 
tions,  ought  to  urge  us  to  pay  a  closer  attention  to  them  and 
their  ways  than  we  have  hitherto  done  ;  since  it  is  not  at  all 
improbable  that  the  result  would  supply  useful  hints  for  the 
improvement  of  our  arts  and  manufactures,  and  perhaps  be  the 
clue  to  some  beneficial  discoveries. 

Although  parrots  are  excessively  amusing  in  their  small* 
talk,  yet,  as  they  cannot  be  supposed  to  be  conscious  of  what 
they  say,  we  can  only  refer  to  them  here,  en  passant,  on  the 
ground  that  they  bear  some  seeming  analogy,  in  this  respect, 
to  some  human  talkers.  Mrs.  Lee,  in  her  "  Anecdotes  of 
Birds,"  mentions  the  instance  of  a  parrot  that  had  lost  one  of 
its  legs,  and  no  sooner  did  any  one  remark  this,  or  ask  how  it 
had  been  lost,  than  it  replied  :  "I  lost  niy  leg  in  the  mer 
chant  service  ;  pray,  remember  the  lame." 

The  following  story  has  often  been  recited  before,  but  it  will 
bear  repeating  : 

"  A  tradesman  who  had  a  shop  in  the  Old  Bailey,  London, 
opposite  the  prison,  kept  two  parrots,  a  green  and  a  grey. 
The  green  parrot  was  taught  to  speak  when  there  was  a  knock 
at  the  street-door  ;  the  gray,  whenever  the  bell  rang  ;  but 
they  only  knew  two  short  phrases  of  English.  The  house  in 

14 


314  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


which  they  lived,  had  an  old-fashioned,  projecting  front,  BO 
that  the  first  floor  could  not  be  seen  from  the  pavement  on  the 
same  side  of  the  way  ;  and,  on  one  occasion,  they  were  left 
outside  the  window  by  themselves,  when  some  one  knocked  at 
the  street  door. 

"  '  Who  is  there  ?'  said  the  green  parrot. 

"  '  The  man  with  the  leather,'  was  the  reply  ;  to  which,  the 
bird  answered  : 

"  '  Oh  !  oh  !' 

"  The  door  not  being  opened,  the  stranger  knocked  a  second 
time. 

"  '  Who  is  there  ?'  said  green  poll. 

"'Who  is  there?'  exclaimed  the  man.  'Why  don't  you 
come  down  ?' 

"  'Oh  !  oh  !'  repeated  the  parrot. 

"  This  so  enraged  the  stranger,  that  he  rang  the  bell 
furiously. 

"  '  Go  to  the  gate,'  said  a  new  voice,  which  belonged  to  the 
gray  parrot. 

" '  To  the  gate  ?'  repeated  the  man,  who  saw  no  such 
entrance,  and  who  thought  that  the  servants  were  bantering 
him.  '  What  gate  ?'  he  asked,  stepping  back  to  view  the 
premises. 

"  '  New-gate/  responded  the  gray,  just  as  the  angry  appli 
cant  discovered  who  had  been  answering  his  summons." 

Parrots  have  been  known  to  mimic  the  sound  of  planing 
a  deal  board,  the  mewing  of  a  cat,  or  the  barking  of  a  dog,  so 
accurately  as  to  deceive  the  closest  observers. 

The  predilection  of  animals  for  particular  persons  was  once 
the  means  of  deciding,  very  amusingly,  a  case  before  a  court 
of  justice.  It  was  at  a  Dublin  police-office,  and  the  object  of^ 
dispute  was  a  pet  parrot,  which  had  been  stolen  from  a  Mr. 
Davis,  and  sold  to  a  Mr.  Moore.  The  plaintiff,  taking  the 
bird  upon  his  finger,  said,  "  Come,  old  boy,  give  me  a  kiss," 
which  the  parrot  instantly  did.  A  youth,  in  the  defendant's 


THE     MUTE      CREATION.  315 


interest,  remarked  that  this  proved  nothing,  as  the  parrot 
would  kiss  anybody.  "You  had  better  not  try,"  remarked 
the  plaintiff.  Nevertheless,  the  young  man  asked  the  parrot 
to  kiss  him.  Poll,  Judas-like,  advanced  as  if  to  give  the 
required  salute,  but  seized  the  youth's  lip,  and  made  him  roar 
with  pain.  This  fact,  and  the  parrot's  obeying  the  plaintiff  in 
several  other  requisitions,  caused  it  to  be  instantly  ordered 
into  the  possession  of  its  original  master. 

Wordsworth  has  devoted  some  excellent  lines  to  that  favor 
ite  of  the  feathered  choristers  of  England — the  sky-lark  ;  in 
which  he  is  apostrophised  as  the  emblem  of  cheerfulness — a 

"  Type  of  the  wise,  who  soar — but  never  roam. 
True  to  the  kindred  points  of  heaven  and  home." 

It  has  been  well  observed,  that  while  "  mirth  is  like  a  flash  of 
lightning  that  breaks  through  a  gloom  of  clouds,  and  glitters 
for  a  moment,  cheerfulness  keeps  up  a  kind  of  daylight  in  the 
mind,  and  fills  it  with  a  steady  and  perpetual  serenity."  The 
matin-song  of  the  lark  was  in  ancient  Greece  the  signal  for  the 
reaper  to  commence  his  toils  ;  these  were  suspended  during 
the  heat  of  the  day,  when  the  bird  was  silent,  and  resumed 
when  the  sun  began  to  verge  towards  the  west,  and  this  blithe 
chorister  filled  the  air  anew  with  its  warblings.  Other  birds 
may  sing  gaily,  but  the  sky-lark  is  jubilant  almost  sublime, 
as,  in  bis  heavenward  flight,  he  pours  forth  the  rich  melody 
of  his  hymn  of  joy.  The  early  spring  is  the  best  time 
to  hear  the  lark's  cheerful  and  exhilarating  song  ;  the  bird 
rises  on  quivering  wing,  almost  perpendicularly,  describing  a 
sort  of  curve  in  the  air,  singing  as  he  flies  ;  yet  so  powerful  i-s 
his  voice,  that  his  wild,  rapturous  notes  can  be  heard  distinctly 
when  the  pained  eye  can  trace  his  course  no  longer.  An  ear 
well-tuned  to  his  song,  can  even  then  determine  by  his  notes 
whether  the  bird  is  still  ascending,  or  on  the  descent.  When 
at  a  considerable  height,  should  a  hawk  appear  in  sight,  or  the 


310  SALAD     FOR     THE     SOCIAL. 


well-known  voice  of  his  mate  reach  his  ear,  the  wings  are 
closed,  and  he  drops  to  the  earth  with  the  rapidity  of  a  stone. 
What  a  beautiful  and  touching  picture  have  we  here  of  cheer 
fulness  and  conjugal  affection  ;  it  is  impossible  to  witness  it 
without  feeling  its  beneficent  influence.  The  presence  of  a 
cheerful  spirit  has  been  compared  to  "  a  sweet  sunshine  that 
awakens  a  secret  delight  in  the  mind  ;"  happy,  indeed,  are 
they  who,  like  this  joyous  bird,  can  rise  with  alacrity,  amid 
the  cloudy  atmosphere  of  adversity,  upon  the  bright  pinions 
of  Hope.  True  cheerfulness  and  contentment  are  a  well- 
spring  of  happiness — a  treasure  well  worth  the  best  efforts  we 
can  make  to  secure  it ;  and  it  is  within  the  reach  of  all.  The 
love  of  home,  another  of  the  cardinal  virtues,  is  exemplified  in 
the  habits  and  characteristics  of  the  dove.  It  is  an  instinctive 
feeling  possessed  by  many  of  the  lower  animals  ;  the  dog, 
sheep,  and  cat,  evince  the  ruling  influence  of  this  passion  ;  but 
the  dove,  especially  the  carrier-dove,  or  pigeon,  discovers  this 
wonderful  faculty  in  a  preeminent  degree,  and  under  circum 
stances  the  most  remarkable. 

From  the  earliest  ages,  doves  have  been  regarded  as  emblems 
of  gentleness  and  innocence  ;  poets  have  celebrated  their 
praises,  and  frequent  mention  of  them  is  made  in  Holy  Writ. 
The  dove  was  the  messenger  sent  forth  from  the  Ark,  to 
ascertain  whether  the  waters  had  subsided  from  the  earth  ; 
and  returning  with  an  olive  branch  in  her  mouth,  she  became, 
henceforth,  the  emblem  of  peace.  Even  our  Saviour  took 
occasion  to  enjoin  it  upon  his  disciples  to  become  in  the  midst 
of  enemies,  "  wise  as  serpents  and  harmless  as  doves  ;"  and  the 
highest  honor  was  conferred  upou  this  gentle  creature,  when  it 
was  made  the  type  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  thus  became  the 
symbol  of  all  that  was  pure,  peaceful,  and  holy.  The  cooing 
of  doves  is  a  plaintive  and  expressive  sound,  which,  it  has  been 
fitly  said,  harnioni/es  well  with  the  subdued  murmuring  of 
brooks,  and  the  sighing  of  the  zephyr  in  the  quiet  and  seques 
tered  spots  which  these  birds  frequent. 


TUB      MUTE      CREATION.  317 


"  Deep  in  the  wood  thy  voice  I  list,  and  lore 
Thy  soft  complaining  song — thy  tender  cooing ; 
Oh  !  what  a  winning  way  thou  hast  of  wooing  ! 
Gentlest  of  all  thy  race — sweet  turtle  dove." 

The  instinctive  love  of  home,  characteristic  of  this  bird,  has 
been  turned  to  good  account  among  mankind  from  an  early 
period,  and  their  importance  as  letter-carriers  is  well  known. 
The  plan  adopted  is  as  follows  :  The  bird  is  first  transported 
to  the  place  from  which  any  letter  is  to  be  conveyed,  and  with 
a  perception  altogether  unaccountable  and  wonderful,  the 
aerial  letter-carrier  speeds  its  way  direct  to  its  former  home. 
A  regular  system  of  posting^was  once  established  in  the  East 
by  this  means  ;  lofty  towers  having  been  erected  by  the  Turk 
ish  government,  at  the  distance  of  thirty  miles  apart,  and  each 
of  these  was  provided  with  a  due  supply  of  pigeons,  under  the 
management  of  sentinels,  whose  business  it  was  to  receive  the 
winged  messengers,  and  transmit  the  intelligence  they  brought 
by  others.  The  message  or  letter  was  written  on  a  very  thin 
slip  of  paper,  and  inclosed  in  a  small  gold  box,  almost  as  thin 
as  the  paper  itself,  which  was  fastened  to  the  neck  of  the  bird. 
This  expedient  has  been  adopted,  even  down  to  within  a  late 
date,  for  the  more  speedy  transmission  of  important  news,  in 
various  parts  of  Europe,  and  in  our  own  country  ;  the 
electric  telegraph  has,  however,  since  superseded  their  use. 
Here  we  close  our  remarks  about  the  winged  and  walking 
things  of  earth,  whose  characteristic  developments  are  so  sug 
gestive  of  moral  instruction  to  "the  paragon  of  animals  ;"  and 
although  the  lessons  they  teach  are  fraught  with  deepest 
interest,  and  cannot  but  reflect  a  beneficial  influence,  yet  it  is 
to  be  feared  but  too  many  are  found  inaccessible  to  their  power, 
and  inaudible  to  their  teaching. 

In  fine,  after  all  that  has  been  adduced  on  the  subject,  we 
must  leave  the  reader  to  determine  the  respective  limits  of  rea 
son  and  instinct  ;  having  nothing  further  to  offer  to  his  aid, 
excepting  the  lines  of  Prior,  who  thus  sums  up  the  whole 
case  : 


318  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


"  Evil  like  us  they  shun,  and  covet  good  ; 
Abhor  the  poison,  and  receive  the  food. 
Like  us  they  love  or  hate  ;  like  us  they  know 
To  joy  the  friend,  or  grapple  with  the  foe. 
With  seeming  thought  their  action  they  intend, 
And  use  the  means  proportioned  to  the  end  ; 
Then  vainly  the  philosopher  avers 
That  reason  guides  our  deeds,  and  instinct  theirs. 
How  can  we  justly  different  causes  frame, 
When  the  effects  entirely  are  the  same  ? 
Instinct  and  reason  how  can  we  divide  ? 
'Tis  the  fool's  ignorance  aud  the  pedant's  pride." 

If  the  subordinate  animals  are  happy  in  their  allotted 
measure  of  intelligence  or  instinct,  it  is  almost  more  than  can 
be  affirmed  of  "  imperial  man,"  for,  with  his  increased  mental 
acquisitions,  does  he  not  too  often  add  to  his  infelicities  ?  If 
this  be  not  true,  why  did  one  of  our  poets  suggest  : 

"  If  ignorance  is  bliss,  'tis  folly  to  be  wise  ?" 

And  if  we  suppose  the  poet  to  be  the  most  liberally  endowed 
with  the  imaginative  faculty,  why  is  he  usually  so  poorly  clad, 
and  so  poorly  domiciled  ? 


PULPIT  PECULIARITIES. 

THE  "odor  of  sanctity"  which  attaches  to  the  office  of  the 
Christian  ministry  has  ever  claimed  and  received  the  deference 
of  mankind.  The  ancient  seers,  prophets,  and  patriarchs  who 
were  commissioned  to  make  known  the  will  of  the  Supreme, 
under  the  impulse  of  a  direct  inspiration,  were  regarded  as 
supernaturally  endowed,  and  their  utterances  deemed  oracular. 
Of  this  illustrious  order  of  priesthood  were  Noah,  Abraham, 
Moses,  and  Isaiah  of  the  ancient  world  ;  and  in  riper  times, 
-the  Divine  Redeemer  with  his  Apostles.  A  commission 
divinely  authorized  and  invested  with  such  moral  grandeur, 
demands  a  corresponding  elevation  of  character — intellectual, 
moral,  and  religious — in  those  who  assume  its  functions  ;  and 
the  world  naturally  looks  for  these  accessories. 

"A  parson,"  writes  George  Herbert,   "is  the  deputy  of 

81'J 


320  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


Christ  for  the  reducing  of  man  to  the  obedience  of  God."  He 
farther  quaintly  adds,  "  His  apparel  is  plain,  but  reverend,  and 
clean  without  spots  or  dust  ;  the  purity  of  his  mind  breaking 
out  and  dilating  itself,  even  to  his  body,  clothes,  and  habita 
tion."  This  remark  of  Herbert  probably  originated  the  saying 
that  "  cleanliness  is  next  to  godliness." 

Some  regard  the  clerical  profession  with  a  blind,  supersti 
tions  reverence — these  are  the  victims  of  priestcraft.  There 
are  others,  with  equal  absurdity,  who  deem  it  the  asylum  of 
infatuation  and  indolence — these  are  the  skeptical  and  profane. 
A  third  class  are  those  who  appreciate  its  worth,  and  who 
venerate  the  sacred  office,  regarding  it  as  Heaven's  expedient 
for  securing  the  moral  elevation  and  happiness  of  the  race — an 
institution  of  the  highest  importance  to  man's  present  and 
eternal  well-being.  The  history  of  the  Pulpit  is  fertile  of  inte 
rest.  It  has  spoken  in  tones  of  melting  tenderness  to  the 
penitent,  thundered  its  denunciations  against  the  prevalence  of 
vice  ;  to  the  one  it  has  brought  down  "  airs  from  heaven,"  to 
the  other  "  blasts  from  hell."  All  nations  and  climes  it  has 
sought  to  reclaim,  anneal,  and  bless  :  and  many  of  the  mighty 
minds  of  all  times  have  yielded  willing  obedience  to  its  teach 
ings  and  its  claims.  It  has  triumphed  throngh  the  long  ordeal 
of  persecution — all  the  mightier  for  the  mastery  it  has  achieved 
over  the  malice  of  its  foes. 

It  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  analyse  the  various  types  of  the 
clerical  character — the  ascetic  and  monkish,  the  devout  and 
devoted,  or  the  ludicrous  and  the  hireling.  Each  has  left 
its  impress,  and,  with  the  exception  of  the  latter,  has 
achieved  much  for  the  good  of  mankind.  We  do  not  however 
include  in  our  category  the  Jesuitical  monk,  any  more  than  the 
hireling  ;  both  are  the  negation  of  all  that  is  good.  There  are 
further  subdivisions  however  among  the  pure  types,  such  as  the 
cheerful  and  the  morbid.  A  recent  writer  on  the  subject 
observes:  "The  spiritual  heroism  of  Luther,  the  religious 
gloom  of  Cowper,  and  the  cheerful  devotion  of  Watts,  are  but 


PULPIT     PECULIARITIES.  321 


varied  expressions  of  one  feeling,  which,  according  to  the  frail 
conditions  of  humanity,  has  its  healthy  and  its  morbid  phase, 
its  authentic  and  its  spurious  exposition,  and  it  is  no  more 
to  be  confounded  in  its  original  essence  with  its  imperfect  deve 
lopment  and  representatives,  than  the  pure  light  of  heaven  wit.h 
the  accidental  media  which  color  and  distort  its  rays.  The 
prestige  of  the  clerical  office  is  greatly  diminished,  because 
many  of  its  prerogatives  are  no  longer  exclusive.  The  clergy, 
at  a  former  period,  were  the  chief  scholars  ;  learning  was  not 
its  distinctive  quality  more  than  sanctity." 

This  monopoly  no  longer  obtains  :  the  press  has  annihilated 
it.  "  Independent  of  the  priestly  rights,  a  clergyman,  in  past 
times,  represented  social  transitions,  and  ministered  to  intellec 
tual  wants,  for  which  we  of  this  age  have  adequate  provision 
otherwise  ;  so  that  the  most  zealous  advocate  of  reform,  doc 
trine,  or  ethical  philosophy,  is  no  longer  obliged  to*  have 
recourse  to  the  sacerdotal  office  in  order  to  reach  the  public 
mind.  This  apparent  diminution  of  the  privileges  of  the  order, 
however,  does  not  invalidate,  but  rather  simplifies  its  claims." 

It  is  reduced  to  its  normal  state  now.  Notwithstanding 
this,  it  is  to  be  admitted,  that  the  intellectual  and  moral  power 
of  the  modern  pulpit  suffers  by  comparison  with  the  past.  A 
recent  writer  in  the  London  Times  remarks  :  "  Pulpit  eloquence 
has  fallen  to  a  very  low  ebb.  With  the  finest  theme  in  the 
world  before  them — with  all  the  hopes  and  anxieties  which  agi 
tate  the  human  breast  during  the  brief  interval  which  separates 
the  cradle  from  the  grave — as  their  subject,  our  preachers  miss 
their  opportunity.  Are  there  extant,  in  print,  collections  of 
sermons  by  twelve  living  divines  from  the  perusal  of  which  any 
one  would  rise  a  more  thoughtful  or  a  better  man  ?  "We  think 
of  the  Taylors,  Barrows,  Souths,  who  have  produced  works  of 
this  kind  which  are  still  operative  for  good,  although  a  couple 
of  centuries  may  have  passed  away  since  their  composition, 
and  wonder  what  it  can  be  in  the  constitution  of  modern  society 
which  has  so  completely  dulled  the  capacities  of  our  spiritual 

14* 


322  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


teachers.  *  *  *  \ye  ask  for  no  polished  periods,  for  no 
finished  compositions,  but  simply  for  burning  thoughts,  couched 
in  simple  and  homely  phrase,  such  as  those  which  in  other  days 
drew  men  from  earth  to  heaven." 

That  the  embassy  with  which  the  Christian  minister  is 
charged  is  one  of  difficulty  is  undeniable,  for  it  has  to  contend 
against  the  moral  forces  constantly  in  operation  in  the  human 
heart,  which  are  antagonistic  to  its  claims.  Yet  the  sublimity 
and  celestial  grandeur  of  its  character  may  well  fire  the  zeal 
of  its  advocate,  and  render  him  superior  to  all  opposition. 
Panoplied  with  the  armory  of  Heaven,  with  the  oracles  of 
Divine  truth  for  his  exhaustless  treasury,  and  the  accompanying 
power  of  Him, 

"  Who  touched  Isaiah's  hallowed  lips  with  fire,;' 

for  his  guidance,  what  may  he  not  be  expected  to  achieve  for 
the  moral  subjugation  of  the  world  ? 

There  is  certainly  a  vast  difference  between  the  ancient 
preachers  and  the  modern  ;  the  entire  abnegation  of  self  and 
of  the  world,  their  simplicity  and  earnestness  of  style,  with 
their  wonderful  power  of  reaching  the  sublime,  must,  to  say 
the  least  of  it,  have  been  very  extraordinary  ;  and,  perhaps, 
in  following  the  type  of  the  old  Apostolic  preachers,  Bishop 
Latimer  seemed  to  bo  a  worthy  descendant  ;  and  in  him  we 
appear  to  have  the  last  of  the  ancients,  and  the  first  of  the 
moderns  ;  although  it  must  be  admitted  that  at  times  old 
Bishop  Latimer,  with  others,  indulged  in  terms  too  gross  for 
modern  and  polite  ears,  often  preached  to  the  common  people 
under  a  tree,  his  Testament  hanging  from  his  leathern  girdle  ; 
while  the  courtly  Ridley,  in  satin  and  fur,  discoursed  the  same 
themes  in  stately  cathedrals  ;*  both,  however,  were  fired  with  a 
like  zeal.  Burnett  says  of  Leighton,  that  he  was  a  most  exem 
plary  character  ;  having  the  greatest  elevation  of  soul,  the  largest 
compass  of  knowledge,  the  most  mortified  and  heavenly  dispo- 

*  Bingham's  Autobiography. 


PULPIT     PECULIARITIES.  323 


sition,  that  he  ever  saw  in  mortal.  Of  this  class  were 
Andrews,  Cranmer,  Jeremy  Taylor,  South,  Luther,  Bossuet, 
and  Massillon.  Matthew  Henry  once  said,  that  "  the  Christian 
ministry  is  the  worst  of  all  trades,  but  the  best  of  all  pro 
fessions." 

Till  Cranmer  distributed  and  chained  the  Bible  to  every 
reading  desk  of  the  parochial  churches  of  England,  a  few  pas 
sages  of  Scripture  inscribed  on  the  walls  were  the  only  conso 
lations  of  humble  Christians. 

Among  the  early  Christians,  the  modern  style  of  preaching 
was  reversed  ;  the  preacher  generally  delivered  his  exhorta 
tion  in  a  sitting  posture,  while  the  congregation  heard  him 
standing.  Chrysostom  preached  in  this  manner.  Men  wore 
their  heads  covered  in  the  church,  in  the  time  of  Elizabeth. 
Laud  alludes  to  the  fact.  The  habit  has  been  traced  to  the 
Hebrew  Synagogue.  Our  Lord  sat  and  disputed  among  the 
doctors  in  the  Temple.  Public  expression  of  approval  by  the 
audience  was  made  by  tossing  up  their  garments,  or  waving 
their  plumes,  in  the  times  of  Chrysostom  and  Jerome. 

It  is  related  .even  of  Constantino  the  Great,  that  he  did  not 
resume  his  scat  during  a  long  sermon,  by  Eusebius,  and  that 
all  the  assembly  followed  his  example. 

In  the  thirteenth  century,  the  Anglo-Norman  clergy,  accord 
ing  to  the  Abbe  de  la  Rue,  used  the  vehicle  of  verse  for  their 
sermons.  In  the  Library  of  the  Royal  Society  of  London  is 
preserved  a  sermon  of  this  kind.  One  of  these  rhyming  ser 
mons  was  printed  in  Paris,  1834,  entitled  Un  Sermon  en  vers, 
public  pour  la  premiere  fois,  par  Acldlle  Jubenal. 

The  title  of  clergy,  given  originally  by  St.  Peter  to  all 
God's  people,  was,  by  Pope  Hygiuus,  appropriated  to  the 
prelates  and  priests;  "condemning,"  as  Milton  says,  "the 
rest  of  God's  inheritance  to  an  injurious  and  alienate  condition 
of  laity."  The  title  of  Pope  was  also  given  to  all  bishops. 
The  same  pontiff  (A.D.,  138),  being  the  first  to  adopt  it. 


324  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


Boniface  III.  induced  Phocas,  Emperor  of  the  East,  iu  606,  to 
restrict  its  use  to  the  Bishop  of  Rome. 

The  origin  of  the  term  minister  is  thus  given  in  the  Curiosi 
ties  of  Literature  : 

"The  Hall  of  the  School  of  Equity  at  Poictiers,  where  the 
institutes  were  read,  was  called  La  Ministerie.  On  which 
head,  Florimond  de  Demond,  speaking  of  Albert  Babinot,  one 
of  the  first  disciples  of  Calvin,  after  having  said  he  was  called 
'  The  good  man,1  adds,  that,  because  he  had  been  a  student  of 
the  Institutes  of  this  Ministerie  of  Poictiers,  Calvin  and  others 
styled  him  Mr.  Minister  ;  from  whence,  afterwards,  Calvin 
took  occasion  to  give  the  name  of  Ministers  to  the  pastors  of 
his  church." 

The  old  English  name,  Parson,  is  supposed  to  be  a  corrup 
tion  of  person,  the  person — by  eminence.  Fuller  remarks  that 
the  Scriptures  give  four  names  to  Christians,  taken  from  the 
four  cardinal  graces  :  saints,  for  their  holiness  ;  believers,  for 
their  faith  ;  brethren,  for  their  love  ;  disciples,  for  their 
knowledge. 

The  clergy  were  originally  styled  clerks,  from  the  Norman 
custom  of  their  judges  being  chosen  from  the  sacred  order.  In 
the  first  century,  they  were  distinguished  by  the  titles  of 
presbyter  and  bishops.  Church  music  is  supposed  to  have 
been  first  introduced  by  Gregory  the  Great,  A.D.,  602. 
Church-steeples  were  originally  parochial  fortresses. 

Sidney  Smith  thus  defines  the  object  of  preaching  :  "  It  is 
constantly  to  remind  mankind  of  what  mankind  is  constantly 
forgetting  ;  not  to  supply  tho  defects  of  human  intelligence, 
but  to  fortify  the  feebleness  of  human  resolutions  ;  to  recall 
mankind  from  the  by-paths  where  they  turn,  into  the  path  of 
salvation  which  all  know,  but  few  tread." 

The  aims  and  topics  of  the  Pulpit  have  been  eloquently  con 
densed  by  Talfourd.  We  transcribe  the  passage  : 

"  The  subjects  of  the  Pulpit  have  never  been  varied  from 


PULPIT      PECULIARITIES.  325 


the  day  the  Holy  Spirit  visibly  descended  on  the  first  advo 
cates  of  the  Gospel  in  tongues  of  fire.  They  are  in  no  danger 
of  being  exhausted  by  frequency,  or  changed  with  the  vicissi 
tudes  of  mortal  fortune.  They  have  immediate  relation  to  that 
eternity,  the  idea  of  which  is  the  living  soul  of  all  poetry  and 
art.  It  is  the  province  of  the  preacher  of  Christianity  to 
develop  the  connection  between  this  world  and  the  next  ;  to 
watch  over  the  beginning  of  a  course  that  will  endure  forever, 
and  to  trace  the  broad  shadows  cast  from  imperishable  reali 
ties  on  the  shifting  scenery  of  earth.  This  sublunary  sphere 
does  not  seem  to  them  as  trifling  or  mean,  in  proportion  as 
they  extend  their  views  onward,  but  assumes  a  new  grandeur 
and  sanctity,  as  the  vestibule  of  a  statelier  and  an  eternal 
region.  The  mysteries  of  our  being,  life  and  death,  both  in 
their  strange  essences  and  in  their  sublimer  relation,  are  topics 
of  their  ministry.  There  is  nothing  affecting  in  the  human 
conditions,  nothing  majestic  in  the  affections,  nothing  touching 
in  the  instability  of  human  dignities,  the  fragility  of  loveliness, 
or  the  heroism  of  self-sacrifice,  which  is  not  a  theme  suited  to 
their  high  purposes.  It  is  theirs  to  dwell  on  the  oldest 
history  of  the  world  ;  on  the  beautiful  simplicity  of  the 
patriarchal  age  ;  on  the  stern  and  awful  religion,  and  marvel 
lous  story  of  the  Hebrews  ;  on  the  glorious  visions  of  the 
prophets  and  their  fulfillment  ;  on  the  character,  miracles  and 
death  of  the  Saviour  ;  on  all  the  wonders  and  all  the  beauty 
of  the  Scriptures.  It  is  theirs  to  trace  the  spirit  of  the  bound 
less  and  the  eternal,  faintly  breathing  in  every  part  of  the 
mystic  circle  of  superstition,  unquenched  even  amidst  the  most 
barbarous  rites  of  savage  tribes,  and  all  the  cold  and  beautiful 
shapes  of  Grecian  mould.  The  inward  soul  of  every  religious 
system,  the  philosophical  spirit  of  all  history,  deep  secrets  of 
the  human  heart,  when  grandest  or  most  wayward,  are  theirs 
to  search  and  to  develop.  Even  those  speculations  which  do 
not  immediately  affect  a  man's  conduct  and  his  hopes,  are 
theirs,  with  all  their  high  casuistry  ;  for  in  these,  at  least, 


326  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


they  discern  the  beatings  of  the  soul  against  the  bars  of  its 
earthly  tabernacle,  which  proves  the  immortality  of  its  essence, 
and  its  destiny  to  move  in  freedom  through  the  vast  ethereal 
circle  to  which  it  thus  vainly  aspires.  In  all  the  intensities  of 
feelings,  and  all  the  realities  of  imagination,  they  may  find 
fitting  materials  for  their  passionate  expostulations  with  their 
fellow-men  to  turn  their  hearts  to  those  objects  which  will 
endure  forever." 

The  author  of  the  Tin  Trumpet  makes  the  following  piquant 
remark:  "Some  divines  are  often  too  deeply  read  in  theology 
to  appreciate  the  full  grandeur  and  the  proper  tendencies  of 
religion.  Losing  the  abstract  in  the  concrete,  the  comprehen 
sive  in  the  technical,  the  principal  in  its  accessories.  Such  are 
in  the  predicament  of  the  rustic,  who  could  not  see  London  for 
the  houses." 

Others,  claiming  to  be  religious  teachers  and  superiors,  might 
have  done  better  service  in  a  different  department  of  duty.  A 
dull  and  illiterate  leader  will  produce  his  kind  in  those  over 
whom  he  presides,  since  he  but  administers  theological  opiates 
to  them,  confirming  them  in  their  apathy,  ignorance,  and  bigotry. 
How  few  divines  dare  venture  to  become  original ;  fewer  still  have 
we  of  rational  enthusiasts. 

"  How  comes  it,"  demanded  a  Bishop  of  Garrick,  "  that 
I,  in  expounding  divine  doctrines,  produce  so  little  effect  upon 
my  congregation,  while  you  can  so  easily  rouse  the  passions  of 
your  auditors  by  the  representation  of  fiction?"  The  answer 
was  short  and  pithy.  "  Because  I  recite  falsehoods  as  if  they 
were  true,  while  you  deliver  truths  as  if  they  were  fiction." 

Robert  Hall,  even,  admitted  that  he  was  tormented  with  the 
desire  of  preaching  better  than  he  did.  He  was  for  greater 
earnestness  and  zeal.  It  was  said  of  Rowland  Hill's  preaching, 
that  his  ideas,  like  Baxter's,  came  hot  from  the  heart.  This  is 
effective  preaching.  Keble  sweetly  suggests — 

"  Love,  on  the  Saviour's  dying  head, 

Her  spikenard  drops,  unblamed.  may  pour  ; 


PULPIT     PECULIARITIES.  827 


May  mount  his  cross,  and  wrap  him  dead, 

In  spices  from  the  golden  shore. 
Risen,  may  embalm  his  sacred  name, 
With  all  a  painter's  art,  and  all  a  minstrel's  flame." 

Steele  observes:  "When  a  man  has  no  design  but  to  speak 
plain  truth,  he  may  say  a  great  deal  in  a  very  narrow  compass." 
The  true  pulpit' style  is  that  which  brings  the  intellect  down 
through  the  heart,  and  melts  all  its  precious  metals  in  that 
glowing  furnace.  Prolixity  in  preaching  is  an  ancient  heresy 
of  the  priesthood.  As  if  conscious  of  this  weakness,  the  Greek 
and  Latin  fathers  used  hour-glasses  in  their  pulpits,  to 
admonish  them  when  to  wind  up.  George  Herbert  says:  "  The 
parson  exceeds  not  an  hour  in  preaching,  because  all  ages  have 
thought  that  a  competency."  Southey,  in  his  Commonplace 
Book,  cites  a  passage  from  the  church  records,  in  1564,  of  St. 
Catharine's,  Aldgate,  London,  which  is  as  follows:  "Paid  for 
an  hour-glass  that  hanged  by  the  pulpit  when  the  preacher  doth 
make  a  sermon,  that  he  may  know  how  the  hour  passeth  away." 

A  rector  of  Bilbury,  Gloucestershire,  was  accustomed  to 
preach  two  hours,  regularly  turning  the  glass;  it  is  said  that 
the  squire  of  the  parish  usually  withdrew  after  the  text  was 
announced,  smoked  his  pipe,  and  then  returned  to  the  blessing. 

During  the  civil  wars  in  England,  one  Stephen  Marshall 
divided  his  text  into  twenty-four  parts;  one  of  his  hearers, 
taking  the  alarm,  it  is  said,  started  off  home  for  his  night-cap 
and  slippers. 

There  are  few  things  against  which  a  preacher  should  be 
more  guarded  than  prolixity.  "  Nothing,"  says  Lamont,  "  can 
justify  a  long  sermon.  If  it  be  a  good  one,  it  need  not  be 
long;  and  if  it  be  a  bad  one,  it  ought  not  to  be  long."  Luther, 
in  the  enumeration  of  nine  qualities  of  a  good  preacher,  gives 
as  the  sixth,  "  That  he  should  know  when  to  stop."  Boyle  has 
an  essay  on  patience  under  long  preaching.  "  This  was  never 
more  wanted,"  said  Jay,  of  Bath,  "  since  the  Commonwealth, 
than  now,  in  our  day,  especially  among  our  young  divines  and 


328  SALAD   FOR  THE   SOCIAL. 


academics,  who  think  their  performances  can  never  be  too 
much  attended  to.  I  never  err  this  way  myself,"  he  said,  "  but 
my  conviction  always  laments  it;  and  for  many  years  after  I 
began  preaching,  I  never  offended  in  this  way.  I  never  surpassed 
three  quarters  of  an  hour  at  most.  I  saw  one  excellency  was 
within  my  reach — it  was  brevity — and  I  determined  to 
obtain  it." 

Geoffrey  Chaucer  portrays  very  felicitously  the  good  pastor 
in  the  following  lines: 

He  was  a  shepherd,  and  no  mercenary, 

And  though  he  holy  was  and  virtuous, 

He  was  to  sinful  men  full  piteous; 

His  words  were  strong,  but  not  with  anger  fraught: 

A  love  benignant  he  discreetly  taught. 

To  draw  mankind  to  heaven  by  gentleness 

And  good  example,  was  his  business. 

Cowper  thus  indicates  what  a  true  parson  should  be  : 

"  Simple,  grave,  sincere, 
In  doctriue  uncorrupt,  in  language  plain, 
And  plain  in  manner,  decent,  solemn,  chaste — 
And  natural  in  gesture,  much  impressed 
Himself,  as  conscious  of  his  awful  charge, 
And  anxious,  mainly,  that  the  flock  he  feeds 
May  feel  it,  too  ;  affectionate  in  spirit, 
And  tender  in  address,  as  well  becomes 
A  messenger  of  grace  to  guilty  man." 

"A  good  preacher,"  observes  an  old  writer,  "is  one  who 
makes  all  his  hearers  feel — not  one  who  merely  gratifies  the 
learned  or  awakes  the  idle."  He  has  been  compared  to  the 
English  verb,  to  be,  to  do,  and  to  suffer. 

Among  uneducated  pastors,  John  Bunyau  is  the  most  prominent 
for  earnestness,  simplicity,  and  zeal.  It  is  remarkable  that  lie 
received  the  first  license  from  the  English  government  to  preach 
in  the  times  of  the  Non-conformists.  It  was  dated  the  9th  of 


PULPIT      PECULIARITIES.  329 


May,  1672.  Who  would  not  have  wished  to  have  seen  him  in  his 
rude  pulpit,  and  to  have  listened  to  his  impassioned  harangues? 
Doubtless,  he  prized  his  privilege,  and  valued  his  mission  the  more 
for  the  sufferings  he  endured  on  their  behalf. 

"  When  such  a  man.  familiar  with  the  skies, 
Has  filled  his  urn  where  the  pure  waters  rise: 
And  once  more  mingles  with  us  meaner  things, 
'Tis  e'en  as  if  an  angel  shook  hia  wings." 

It  has  been  observed  that  every  sermon  should  have  a  topic, 
as  well  as  a  text.  The  topic  should  be  naturally  drawn  from 
the  text;  well  chosen,  well  stated,  well  arranged,  well  argued, 
well  illustrated,  and  well  applied.  It  is  important,  too,  for  all 
these  ends,  that  it  should  be  well  expressed. 

The  selecting  of  a  text  seems  to  have  originated  with  Ezra. 
Previous  to  that  time,  the  patriarchs  delivered  in  public  assem 
blies  either  prophecies  or  moral  instructions  for  the  edification 
of  the  people.  It  was  not  until  after  the  return  of  the  Jews 
from  Babylonish  captivity,  during  which  period  they  had  almost 
lost  the  language  in  which  the  Pentateuch  was  written,  that  it 
became  necessary  to  explain  as  well  as  to  read  Scripture  to 
them — a  practice  adopted  by  Ezra,  and  since  universally  fol 
lowed.  In  latter  times,  the  book  of  Moses  was  thus  read  in  the 
Synagogue  every  Sabbath  day.  To  this  custom  the  Saviour 
conformed,  and  in  a  Synagogue,  at  Nazareth,  read  passages 
from  the  Prophet  Isaiah;  then  closing  the  book,  returned  it  to 
the  priest,  and  preached  from  the  text.  The  custom,  which 
now  prevails  all  over  the  Christian  world,  was  interrupted  in 
the  dark  ages,  when  the  ethics  of  Aristotle  were  read  in  many 
churches,  on  Sunday,  instead  of  the  Holy  Scriptures. 

The  following  are  among  the  instances  of  wit  in  choosing  texts. 
It  is  said  that  Melanchthon  on  some  occasion  arose  to  preach  a 
sermon  on  the  text,  "I  am  the  good  shepherd."  On  looking 
around  upon  his  numerous  audience,  his  natural  timidity  over 
came  him,  and  he  could  only  repeat  the  text  over  and  over 


330  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


again.  Luther,  who  was  in  the  desk  with  him,  at  length 
exclaimed,  "You  are  a  very  good  sheep!"  and  telling  him  to 
sit  down,  took  the  same  text,  and  preached  an  excellent  discourse 
from  it. 

Robert  Hall,  on  one  occasion,  being  disgusted  by  the  egotism 
and  conceit  of  a  preacher,  who,  with  a  mixture  of  self-complacency 
and  impudence,  challenged  his  admiration  of  a  sermon,  was  pro 
voked  to  say,  "  Yes,  there  was  one  very  fine  passage  iu  your  dis 
course,  sir."  "  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  you  say  so — which 
was  it  ?"  "  Why,  sir,  it  was  the  passage  from  the.  pulpit  to  f./it. 
restry." 

What  a  sermon  should  be,  may  be  gathered  from  the 
following: 

"Ir  should  be  brief;  if  lengthy,  it  will  steep 
Our  hearts  in  apathy,  our  eyes  in  sleep  ; 
The  dull  will  yawn,  the  chapel-lounger  doze, 
Attention  flag,  and  memory's  portals  close. 

It  should  be  warm,  a  living  altar-coal, 
To  melt  the  icy  heart  and  charm  the  soul; 
A  sapless,  dull  harangue,  however  read, 
Will  never  rouse  the  soul,  or  raise  the  dead. 

It  should  be  simple,  practical,  and  clear; 
No  fine-spun  theory. to  please  the  ear; 
No  curious  lay  to  tickle  lettered  pride, 
And  leave  the  poor  and  plain  unedified. 

It  should  be  tender  and  affectionate, 
As  His  warm  theme  who  wept  lost  Salcm's  fate; 
The  fiery  laws,  with  words  of  love  allayed, 
Will  sweetly  warm  and  awfully  persuade. 

It  should  be  manly,  just,  and  rational, 
Wisely  conceived,  and  well  expressed  withal; 
Not  stuffed  with  silly  notions,  apt  to  stain 
A  sacred  desk,  and  show  a  muddy  brain. 


PULPIT     PECULIARITIES.  331 


It  should  be  mixed  with  many  an  ardent  prayer, 
To  reach  the  heart,  and  fix  and  fasten  there; 
When  God  and  man  are  mutually  addressed, 
God  grants  a  blessing,  man  is  truly  blessed. 

It  should  be  closely,  well  applied  at  last, 
To  make  the  moral  nail  securely  fast; 
Thou  art  the  man,  and  thou,  alone,  wilt  make 
A  Felix  tremble,  and  a  David  quake!" 

Luther  said:  "Prayer,  meditation,  and  temptation,  make  a 
minister."  Another  vigorous  phrase  of  his  is  well  known, — 
"  Bern  orasxe,  bene  sluduisse," — to  pray  well,  is  to  study  well. 
Prayer,  is  not,  however,  the  solemn  duty  of  the  clergy  alone, 
but  of  all;  the  common  privilege  of  dependent  creatures.  An 
old  writer  has  quaintly,  but  very  truly,  said:  "  God  looks  not 
at  the  oratory  of  our  prayers,  how  eloquent  they  are;  nor  at 
their  geometry,  how  long  they  are;  nor  at  their  arithmetic,  how 
many  they  are ;  nor  at  their  logic,  how  methodical  they  are ;  but 
he  looks  at  their  sincerity,  how  spiritual  they  are." 

We  are  as  much  under  law  to  religion  as  to  morals;  as 
Longfellow  very  beautifully  expresses  it:  "Morality,  without 
religion,  is  only  a  kind  of  dead  reckoning — an  endeavor  to 
find  our  place  on  a  cloudy  sea,  by  measuring  the  distance  we 
have  to  run,  but  without  any  observation  of  the  heavenly  bodies." 

"Oratio  est  clavis  diei,  et  sera  noctis," — the  key  of  the  day,  and 
the  lock  of  the  night,  is  prayer.  This  was  the  beautiful  saying 
of  one  of  olden  time,  and  it  is  fragranf  for  all  seasons. 

In  the  exercise  of  the  clerical  function,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  certain  idiosyncrasies  of  character  should  occasionally  be 
observable.  Many  prominent  names  might  be  cited  as  illustra 
tive  of  the  fact,  such  as  Dean  Swift,  Sydney  Smith,  Lawrence 
Sterne,  and  Rowland  Hill,  with  numerous  imitators.  During  the 
reign  of  Charles  II.,  it  was  the  fashion  to  indulge  to  excess  the 
habit  of  humorous  preaching.  Sterne  seems  to  have  revived  the 
custom,  and  South's  discourses  sparkle  perpetually  with  wit  and 
pun.  From  the  fourteenth  to  the  sixteenth  centuries,  the  pul- 


332  SALAD   FOR  TUK  SOCIAL. 


pit  was  characterized  by  its  rudeness  of  address,  jocularity,  and 
even  indelicacy.  These  abuses  have  been  perpetuated  in  later 
times,  and  even  in  our  own,  some  have  been  found  not  altogether 
innocent  of  the  charge.  Another  questionable  feature  of  the 
clerical  character,  in  bygone  times,  was  that  of  gluttony  and 
intoxication;  when  persons  seemed  to  evince  at  least  as  much 
devotion  to  the  flesh  as  the  spirit,  their  own  stomachs  as  the 
souls  of  their  people.* 

This  defection  in  the  ministerial  order  obtained  to  a  compara 
tively  recent  period.  The  "sporting  parson"  was,  also,  once 
the  representative  of  a  recognized  class  in  England,  for  the 
pampered  monk  of  the  Latin  Church  was  scarcely  less  notorious. 
Happier  days  have  since  dawned  upon  the  Church.  These 
excrescences  required  lopping  off,  and  it  is  to  be  regretted 
they  ever  formed  upon  the  noble  tree  of  Protestantism. 

The  term  Protestantism  reminds  us  of  the  prompt  answer 
which  was  given  by  Wilkes,  who,  being  asked  by  a  Romanist, 
"  Where  was  your  church  before  Luther  ?"  replied,  "  Where  was 
your  face  before  you  washed  it,  this  morning  ?" 

The  austerity  and  asceticism  of  the  monk  seem  scarcely  less 
consistent.  It  is  not  necessary  that  either  extreme  should  be 
indulged ;  a  cheerful  piety  is  the  true  characteristic.  "Cheerfulness 
is  the  best  hymn  to  the  Divinity,"  according  to  Addison.  When 
we  have  passed  a  day  of  innocent  enjoyment;  when  "our 
bosom's  lord  sits  lightly  on  his  throne;"  when  our  gratified 
feelings,  sympathizing  with  universal  nature,  make  us  sensible  as 
John  of  Salisbury  says,  that  "  Gratior  el  dies,  et  soles  melius  nitcnt" 
— we  may  be  assured  that  we  have  been  performing,  however 
unconsciously,  an  acceptable  act  of  devotion.  Pure  religion 

*In  the  books  of  Darlington  parisli  church,  the  following  items  appear,  showing  that, 
in  the  olden  time,  provision  was  made  for  comforting  the  inner  man:  "Six  quarts  of 
sack  to  the  minister  who  preached  when  he  had  no  minister  to  assist,  9s.  For  a  quart 
of  sack  bestowed  on  Jillett,  when  he  preached,  2*.  Gd,  For  a  pint  of  brandy  when  Mr. 
George  Bill  preached  here,  Is.  4d.  For  a  stranger  who  preached,  a  dozen  of  ale.  When 
the  Dean  of  Durham  preached  here,  spent  in  a  treat  in  the  house,  3s.  &d."  This  would 
hardly  be  considered  orthodox  at  the  present  day. 


PULPIT      PECULIARITIES.  333 


may  generally  be  measured  by  the  cheerfulness  of  its  professors, 
and  superstition  by  its  gloom.  Hie  placet  Deo,  cui  placet  Dcus 
— he  to  whom  God  is  pleasant,  is  pleasant  to  God.  A  melan 
choly  and  morose  Christian  is  an  anomaly. 

There  is  a  great  difference  between  occasionally  introducing 
an  illustration,  which  may  serve  its  end,  though  slightly  tinc 
tured  with  the  comic,  and  that  depraved  taste  which  would 
desecrate  the  sacred  desk  by  the  exhibitions  of  buffoonery.  A 
minister  should  never  be  insensible  to  the  claims  of  his  mission, 
as  it  is  taught  in  that 

"  Book,  -wherein  his  Saviour's  Testament, 
Written  with  golden  letters,  rich  and  brave: 
A  work  of  wondrous  grace,  and  able  souls  to  save." 

Or,  as  a  later  poet,  Cowper,  expresses  it — 

He  that  negotiates  between  God  and  man, 
As  God's  ambassador,  the  grand  concerns 
Of  judgment  and  of  mercy,  should  beware, 
Of  lightness  in  his  speech.     "Tis  pitiful 
To  court  a  grin,  when  you  should  woo  a  soul. 
To  break  a  jest,  when  pity  would  inspire 
Pathetic  exhortation;  and  to  address 
The  skittish  fancy  with  facetious  tales, 
When  sent  with  God's  commission  to  the  heart! 
So  did  not  Paul. 

Pascal  has  been  censured  for  his  irony  and  invective,  while 
Barrow  vindicates  the  use  of  these  weapons.  When  plain 
declarations  will  not  enlighten  the  mind  to  discern  the  truth 
and  importance  of  things,  and  when  argument  is  too  blunt  to 
penetrate  the  dulness  of  the  understanding,  it  is  then  reason 
resigns  its  place  to  wit  in  the  work  of  instruction.  Willmott 
further  remarks:  "  this  argument  is  ingenious,  yet  we  may  well 
tremble  to  think,  that  as  the  brilliant  epigrams  of  Pascal  have 
re- appeared  in  the  sparkling  sophisms  of  Gibbon,  so  the  banter 
ing  smile  of  Jostin  may  settle  into  the  malevolent  sneer  of  a 


334  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 

modern  Voltaire.  If  there  be  any  instance  of  what  is  called 
humor  in  the  Bible,  it  occurs  in  the  meeting  of  Elijah  and  the 
priests  of  Baal." 

Among  humorous  and  eccentric  preachers,  Father  Andre  holds 
distinguished  rank.  We  cite  the  following  anecdotes  relating 
to  him,  which,  if  even  already  familiar  to  the  reader,  may  bear 
repeating.  Once,  while  he  was  preaching  in  a  country  church, 
a  pack  of  cards  jlew  out  of  his  sleeve,  and  fell  among  the  audience. 
Every  one  began  laughing.  The  preacher,  without  being  in  the 
least  disconcerted,  called  on  the  larger  children  that  happened 
to  be  there,  to  collect  them  together;  and  as  they  brought 
them,  inquired  how  the  different  cards  were  called.  The  answers 
were  promptly  given.  He  then  put  some  questions  out  of  the 
catechism,  which,  however,  they  were  unable  to  reply  to.  Then 
addressing  the  fathers  and  mothers — "  Is  it  thus,"  said  he, 
"  that  you  neglect  the  education  of  your  children  ?  You 
introduce  them  into  the  vanities  of  life,  and  by  the  most  crimi 
nal  carelessness  permit  them  to  lose  their  immortal  souls."  The 
impression  produced  was  powerful,  and  every  one  perceived 
that  the  cards  were  brought  purposely  to  introduce  this  pathetic 
appeal. 

Being  called  upon  to  announce  a  subscription  in  order  to  raise 
a  sufficient  sum  to  procure  the  initiation  of  a  young  woman  into 
a  sisterhood,  which  was  then  required  of  females  taking  the  veil, 
he  commenced  his  sermon,  "  Sirs,  I  am  instructed  to  recommend 
to  your  charity  a  maiden  who  has  not  cash  enough  to  take 
the  vows  of  poverty."  The  facetious  monk  once  began  a  ser 
mon  with,  "  The  pope  is  grass,  the  king  is  grass,  the  queen  is 
grass,  the  cardinal  is  grass,  you  are  grass,  I  am  grass — all 
Jlesh  is  grass."  Preaching  in  a  monastery  which  had  recently 
been  struck  by  lightning,  Father  Andre  expatiated  upon  the 
goodness  of  God,  who  took,  as  he  would  show,  special  care  of 
his  children.  "  For,"  said  he,  "  among  other  evidences,  consider 
what  has  happened  to  this  holy  house,  in  whicli  I  am  preaching. 
The  lightning  struck  the  library,  and  consumed  it,  but  injured 


PULPIT      PECULIARITIES.  335 


not  a  single  monk.  If,  however,  it  had,  unfortunately,  fallen 
upon  the  dining-room  or  buttery,  how  many  brethren  would  have 
been  killed — how  many  tears  shed — what  desolation  would  have 
ensued!" 

A  certain  bishop,  in  a  sermon  to  his  parishioners,  repeated 
the  above  text — "All  flesh  is  grass."  The  season  was  Lent, 
and  a  few  days  afterwards,  he  encountered  a  parishioner 
who  appeared  to  have  something  on  his  mind.  "  The  top  of  the 
mornin' to  your  riverence,"  said  Terence;  "did  I  fairly  under 
stand  your  riverence  to  say,  '  All  flesh  is  grass/  last  Sunday  ?" 
"To  be  sure  you  did,"  replied  the  bishop,  "  and  you're  a  heretic 
if  you  doubt  it."  "  Oh,  devil  a  bit  do  I  doubt  anything  your 
riverence  says,"  said  the  wily  Terence;  "but  if  your  riverence 
plases,  I  wish  to  know  whether  in  this  Lent  time,  I  could  not 
be  afther  having  a  small  piece  of  bafe,  by  way  of  a  salad  ?" 

Some  amusing  dilemmas  are  on  record,  as  the  result  of 
using  written  sermons  :  we  select  the  following  :  A  clergyman 
having  picked  up  a  homily  composed  when  the  plague  was 
raging  in  London,  unconsciously  took  the  choice  document 
with  him,  one  Sunday,  to  church,  and  read  it  to  his  congrega 
tion.  Towards  the  close,  after  having  sharply  reproved  vice, 
he  added,  "  for  these  vices  it  is  that  God  has  visited  you  and 
your  families  with  that  cruel  scourge,  the  plague,  which  is  now 
spreading  everywhere  in  this  town!  Hearing  this  astounding 
announcement,  the  people  were  all  so  thunderstruck  that  the 
chief  magistrate  was  obliged  to  go  to  the  pulpit,  and  to  ask 
him,  "  For  God's  sake,  sir,  where  is  the  plague,  that  I  may 
instantly  take  measures  to  prevent  its  spreading."  "  The  plague, 
sir  ?"  replied  the  preacher,  "  I  know  nothing  about  the  plague; 
but  whether  it  is  in  the  town  or  not,  it  is  in  my  homily." 

An  eccentric  domine,  Mathew  Byles,  of  Boston,  Mass.,  in 
1776,  seems  to  have  been  as  inveterate  a  joker  as  Sydney 
Smith.  Upon  a  Fast  Day,  Dr.  Byles  had  negotiated  an 
exchange  with  a  country  clergyman.  Upon  the  appointed 
morning,  each  of  them — for  vehicles  were  not  common  then — 


236  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


proceeded,  on  horseback  to  his  respective  place  of  appointment. 
Dr.  Byles  no  sooner  observed  his  brother  clergyman  approach 
ing,  at  a  distance,  than  he  applied  the  whip,  put  his  horse  into 
a  gallop,  and  with  his  canonicals  flying  all  abroad,  passed  his 
friend  at  full  run.  "  What  is  the  matter  1"  he  exclaimed,  raising 
his  hand  in  astonishment — "Why  so  fast,  Brother  Byles  1"  to 
which  the  Dr.,  without  slackening  his  speed,  replied  over  his 
shoulder,  "It  is  fast  Day!" 

As  he  was  once  occupied  in  nailing  some  list  upon  his  doors, 
to  exclude  the  cold,  a  parishioner  said  to  him,  "  the  wind  blow- 
eth  wheresoever  it  listeth,  Dr.  Byles."  "  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the 
doctor,  "  and  man  listeth  wheresoever  the  wind  bloweth." 

Dr.  Byles  was  arrested  as  a  tory,  and  subsequently  tried, 
convicted,  and  sentenced  to  confinement  on  board  a  guard-ship, 
and  to  be  sent  to  England  with  his  family,  in  forty  days.  This 
sentence  was  changed,  by  the  board  of  war,  to  confinement  in 
his  own  house.  A  guard  was  placed  over  him.  After  a  time, 
the  sentinel  was  removed,  afterwards  replaced,  and  again 
removed,  when  the  Doctor  exclaimed,  that  he  had  been  guarded, 
regarded,  and  disregarded.  He  called  his  sentry  his  observ-a- 
tory. 

There  are  some  curious  stories  respecting  Fra  Rocco,  the 
celebrated  Dominican  preacher  and  the  spiritual  Joe  Miller 
of  Naples.  On  one  occasion,  it  is  related  he  preached  a 
penitential  sermon,  and  introduced  so  many  illustrations  of  ter 
ror  that  he  soon  brought  his  hearers  to  their  knees.  While  they 
were  thus  showing  every  sign  of  contrition,  he  cried  out,  "Xow,  all 
of  you  who  sincerely  repent  of  your  sins,  hold  up  your  hands." 
Every  man  in  the  vast  multitude  immediately  stretched  out 
both  his  hands.  "  Holy  Archangel  Michael,"  exclaimed  Rocco, 
"  thou  who  with  thine  adamantine  sword  standest  at  the  right 
of  the  judgment  seat  of  God,  hew  me  off  every  hand  which  has 
been  raised  hypocritically."  In  an  instant  every  hand  dropped, 
and  Rocco,  of  course,  poured  forth  a  fresh  torrent  of  eloquent 
invective  against  their  sins  and  their  deceit. 


PULPIT      PECULIARITIES.  337 


The  two  celebrated  divines  and  scholars,  doctors  South  and 
Sherlock,  were  once  disputing  on  some  religious  subject,  when 
the  latter  accused  his  opponent  of  using  his  wit  in  the  contro 
versy.  "  Well,"  said  South,  "  suppose  it  had  pleased  God  to 
give  you  wit,  what  would  you  have  done  ?" 

Among  the  eccentricities  of  the  pulpit,  wre  ought  not  to  omit 
the  ingenious  temperance  lecture  ascribed  to  Mr.  Dodd,  of 
Cambridge,  England.  On  one  occasion,  when  challenged  to 
preach  against  drunkenness,  it  is  related  that  he  delivered  the 
following  unpremeditated  short  sermon,  under  a  tree,  by  the 
road-side,  from  the  word  malt.  He  commenced  by  stating  that 
he  had  chosen  a  short  text,  which  could  not  be  divided  into 
sentences,  there  being  none;  nor  into  words,  there  being  but 
one;  he  therefore  divided  it  into  letters,  thus: 

M,  is  moral 

A,  is  allegorical, 

L,  is  literal, 

T,  is  theological, 

His  exposition  ran  as  follows:  the  moral  is  to  teach  you  good 
manners;  therefore,  M,  my  masters,  A,  all  of  you,  L,  leave  off, 
T,  tippling.  The  allegorical  is,  when  one  thing  is  spoken  of, 
and  another  meant.  The  thing  spoken  of  is  malt,  the  thing 
meant  is  the  spirit  of  malt,  which  you  make,  M,  your  meat,  A, 
your  apparel,  L,  your  liberty,  and  T,  your  trust.  The  literal 
is,  according  to  the  letters,  M,  much,  A,  ale,  L,  little,  T,  trust. 
The  theological  is,  according  to  the  effects  it  works  in  some,  M, 
murder,  in  others,  A,  adultery,  in  all,  L,  looseness  of  life,  and  in 
many,  T,  treachery. 

The  following  curious  string  of  puns  is  taken  from  a  scarce 
work,  published  in  the  reign  of  James  the  First.  A  divine, 
more  willing  to  play  with  words  than  to  be  serious  in  expound 
ing  his  text,  spoke  thus  in  his  sermon:  "This  dial  shows  that 
we  must  die  all;  yet,  notwithstanding,  all  houses  are  turned 
into  ale-houses ;  our  cares  are  turned  into  cates ;  our  Paradise, 

15 


338  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


iuto  a  pair  6*  dice  ;  matrimony  into  a  matter  o'  money  ;  and  mar 
riage  into  a  merry  age.  Our  divines  have  become  dry  vines  ,-  it 
was  not  so  in  the  days  of  Noah — ah  no !" 

A  certain  minister  had  a  custom  of  writing  the  heads  of  his 
discourse  on  small  slips  of  paper,  which  he  placed  on  the  Bible 
before  him,  to  be  used  in  succession  One  day,  when  he  was 
explaining  the  second  head,  he  got  so  excited  in  his  discourse, 
that  he  caused  the  ensuing  slip  to  fall  over  the  edge  of  the  pul 
pit,  though  unperceived  by  himself.  On  reaching  the  end  of  his 
second  head,  he  looked  down  for  the  third  slip;  but,  alas!  it 
was  not  to  be  found.  "  Thirdly,"  he  cried,  looking  round  him 
with  great  anxiety.  After  a  little  pause,  "  Thirdly,"  again  he 
exclaimed;  but  still  no  thirdly  appeared.  ''Thirdly,  I  say,  my 
brethren,"  pursued  the  bewildered  clergyman;  but  not  another 
word  could  he  utter.  At  this  point,  while  the  congregation 
were  partly  sympathising  in  his  distress,  and  partly  rejoicing  in 
such  a  decisive  instance  of  the  impropriety  of  using  notes  in 
preaching — which  has  always  been  an  unpopular  thing  in  the 
Scotch  clergy,  an  old  woman  rose  up,  and  thus  addressed  the 
preacher:  "If  I'm  no  mista'en,  sir,  I  saw  thirdly  flee  out  at 
the  east  window,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  syne." 

As  a  quaint  specimen  of  clerical  brevity,  we  offer  the  follow 
ing;  it  is  ascribed  to  an  old  English  divine.  The  text  upon 
which  it  was  based  is  to  be  found  in  Titus  ii.  9.  He  thus 
unfolded  his  doctrine. 

"  I.  There  are  three  companions  with  whom  you  should 
always  keep  on  good  terms.  First,  Your  Wife  ;  Second,  Your 
Stomach  ;  Third,  Your  Conscience. 

"  II.  If  you  wish  to  enjoy  peace,  long  life,  and  happiness, 
preserve  them  by  temperance.  Intemperance  produces:  First, 
Domestic  misery  ;  Second,  Premature  death  ;  Third,  Infidelity. 
"To  make  these  points  clear,  I  refer  you:  First,  To  the 
Newgate  Calendar  ;  Second,  To  the  hospitals,  lunatic  asylums, 
and  work-houses  ;  Third,  To  the  past  experience  of  what  you 
have  seen,  read,  and  suffered,  in  mind  body,  and  estate. 


PULPIT     PECULIARITIES.  339 


"Hearer,  decide!  which  will  you  choose?  TEMPERANCE,  with 
happiness  and  long  life;  or  INTEMPERANCE,  with  misery  and  pre 
mature  death  ?" 

Frederick  the  Great  being  informed  of  the  death  of  one  of 
his  chaplains,  a  man  of  considerable  learning  and  piety,  deter 
mined  that  his  successor  should  not  be  behind  him  in  these 
qualifications,  took  the  following  method  of  ascertaining  the 
merits  of  one  of  the  numerous  candidates  for  the  appoint 
ment  :; — He  told  the  applicant  that  he  would  himself  furnish 
him  with  a  text  the  following  Sunday,  when  he  was  to  preach 
at  the  royal  chapel,  from  which  he  was  to  make  an  extempore 
sermon.  The  clergyman  accepted  the  proposition.  The  whim 
of  such  a  probationary  discourse  was  spread  abroad  widely, 
and  at  an  early  hour  the  rojal  chapel  was  crowded  to  excess. 
The  king  arrived  at  the  end  of  the  prayers,  and  on  the  candi 
date's  ascending  the  pulpit,  one  of  his  majesty's  aides-de-camp 
presented  him  with  a  sealed  paper.  The  preacher  opened  it, 
and  found  nothing  therein.  He  did  not,  however,  lose  his 
presence  of  mind  ;  but  turning  the  paper  on  both  sides,  he 
said  : — "  My  brethren,  here  is  nothing,  and  there  is  nothing  ; 
out  of  nothing  God  created  all  things  ;"  and  proceeded  to 
deliver  a  most  admirable  discourse  upon  the  wonders  of  Crea 
tion. 

Louis  XIV.  said  one  day  to  Massillon,  after  hearing  him 
preach  at  Versailles  :  "  Father,  I  have  heard  many  great  ora 
tors  in  this  chapel  ;  I  have  been  highly  pleased  with  them  ;  but 
for  you,  whenever  I  hear  you,  I  go  away  displeased  with  myself, 
for  I  see  more  of  my  own  character."  This  has  been  con 
sidered  the  finest  encomium  ever  bestowed  upon  a  preacher. 

When  Massillon  ascended  the  pulpit,  on  the  death  of  that 
prince,  he  contemplated  for  a  moment  the  impressive  spectacle 
— the  chapel  draped  in  black — the  magnificent  mausoleum 
raised  over  the  bier — the  dim  but  vast  apartment  filled  with 
the  trophies  of  the  glory  of  the  monarch,  and  with  the  most 
illustrious  persons  in  the  kingdom.  He  looked  down  on  the 


340  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


gorgeous  scene  beneath,  then  raised  his  arms  to  heaven  and 
said,  in  a  solemn,  subdued  tone,  "  Mcs  freres,  Dieu  seul  est 
grand .'"  "  God  only  is  great."  With  one  impulse,  all  the 
audience  rose,  turned  to  the  altar,  and  reverently  bowed. 

When  Dr.  Hussey  preached  at  Watford,  on  the  small  num 
ber  of  the  elect,  he  asked,  "  Whether,  if  the  arch  of  heaven 
were  to  open,  and  the  Son  of  Man  should  appear  to  judge  his 
hearers,  it  were  quite  certain  that  one  of  us,"  he  exclaimed  in 
a  voice  of  thunder,  "  would  be  saved  ?"  During  the  whole  of 
this  apostrophe,  the  audience  was  agonized.  At  the  ultimate 
interrogation,  we  are  told,  there  was  a  general  shriek,  and 
some  fell  to  the  ground. 

M.  Brideine,  a  French  missionary,  and  the  peer  of  the  most 
renowned  orators  of  that  eloquent  nation,  preached  a  sermon 
at  Bagnole.  At  the  end  of  it,  he  lifted  up  his  arms,  and  thrice 
cried  in  a  loud  voice,  "  0,  Eternity  !"  At  the  third  repetition 
of  this  awful  cry,  the  whole  audience  fell  upon  their  knees. 
During  three  days,  consternation  pervacled  the  town.  In  the 
public  places,  young  and  old  were  heard  crying  aloud,  "  0 
Lord,  mercy  !" 

Rather  a  remarkable  incident  is  related  of  the  preaching  of 
the  venerable  Dr.  Beecher.  Many  years  ago  he  was  engaged 
to  officiate  in  Ohio  ;  it  was  in  the  depth  of  winter,  and  the 
roads  were  nearly  impassable  with  snow,  yet  the  doctor  pur 
sued  his  journey,  and,  on  reaching  the  church,  found  not  a 
single  individual  there.  With  his  characteristic  decision  of 
purpose,  he  ascended  the  pulpit,  and  waited  the  arrival  of  his 
congregation.  One  solitary  person  at  length  entered,  and  the 
doctor  commenced  the  service.  At  the  conclusion,  he  has 
tened  to  greet  his  auditor,  but  he  had  vanished.  Some  score 
of  years  subsequently  the  parties  accidentally  met,  when  the 
pleasing  fact  was  communicated  to  the  doctor,  that  that  ser 
mon  had  proved  the.  means  of  his  conversion,  and  that  he 
had  since  become  himself  a  minister  over  a  large  congrega 
tion. 


PULPIT     PECULIARITIES.  341 


The  following  anecdote  illustrates  the  peculiarities  of  charac 
ter  of  Western  pioneer  life,  as  well  as  of  a -certain  "presiding 
elder," — Peter  Cartwright.  When  the  State  of  Illinois  was 
admitted  into  the  Union,  it  was  as  a  free  State.  Not  long 
after,  the  question  was  largely  discussed  whether  the  Constitu 
tion  of  the  State  should  not  be  so  amended  as  to  permit 
Slavery.  Cartwright,  who  then  resided  in  Tennessee,  was  a 
strong  opponent  of  Slavery,  and  determined  to  remove  to  Illi 
nois  to  take  part  in  the  settlement  of  the  question.  So  he  was 
appointed  "  Presiding  Elder,"  over  a  district  about  as  large  as 
England.  He  kept  his  appointments,  and  after  preaching  on 
Sunday,  was  wont  to  announce  that  on  Monday  he  would 
deliver  a  "  stump  speech."  He  soon  became  regarded  as  a  politi 
cian,  and  no  little  anger  was  excited  against  him.  One  day 
coming  to  a  ferry  across  the  river,  where  he  was  not  personally 
known,  he  heard  the  ferryman  holding  forth  to  a  crowd  in  bit 
ter  terms  against  that "  old  renegade,"  prefixing  sundry  emphatic 
expletives  to  that  flattering  term — Pete  Cartwright,  declaring 
that  he  would  drown  him  if  he  ever  came  that  way.  After  a 
while,  Peter  engaged  the  ferryman  to  put  him  over.  They 
were  alone  in  the  boat,  and  when  they  had  reached  the  centre 
of  the  stream,  in  full  sight  of  the  shore,  the  preacher,  throwing 
the  bridle  of  his  horse  over  a  post,  ordered  the  ferryman  to 
put  down  his  pole.  "  What  is  the  matter  ?"  asked  the  ferry 
man.  "  You  have  just  been  making  free  with  my  name,  and 
threatening  to  drowu  me  in  the  river.  I  want  to  give  you  a 
chance  to  do  so."  "  You  are  Pete  Cartwright,  are  you  ?" 
"  My  name  is  Peter  Cartwright,"  replied  the  preacher.  The 
ferryman,  nothing  loath,  laid  down  his  pole,  and  the  contest 
began.  The  preacher  proved  the  better  man,  and  seizing  his 
antagonist  by  the  nape  of  the  neck  and  the  seat  of  his  nether 
garments,  plunged  him  three  times  under  water.  Then  holding 
his  head  out  of  the  water,  he  asked,  "  Did  you  ever  pray  ?"  "  No,7' 
was  the  reply.  "  Then  it  is  time  you  should.  I  will  teach  you. 
Do  you  repeat  after  me, '  Our  Father,  who  art  in  Heaven.'  "  The 


342  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


ferryman  refused,  and  down  went  his  head  under  water,  and  there 
it  was  held  long  enough,  as  Peter  thought,  to  conquer  his  reluc 
tance.  He  raised  him  up,  and  repeated  his  demand.  "  Let  me 
breathe,"  gasped  the  ferryman.  "  Give  me  a  few  minutes  to  think 
about  it."  "Not  a  moment,"  and  under  went  his  head  again.  The 
inquiry  was  again  put,  when  the  ferryman's  head  was  next 
raised,  "Will  you  pray  now?"  "Yes,  I'll  do  anything,"  and 
the  fellow  obediently  repeated  the  Lord's  Prayer,  after  the  dic 
tation  of  Cartwright.  "  Xow  let  me  up,"  he  added.  "No, 
not  yet,"  replied  the  inexorable  Peter.  "  You  must  make  me 
three  promises  before  I  let  you  up.  First,  you  must  promise 
to  pray  every  night  and  morning  as  long  as  you  live;  then  you 
must  promise  to  put  every  Methodist  preacher  who  comes  along 
over  the  river  for  nothing;  and  lastly,  you  must  promise  here 
after  to  attend  every  meeting  of  the  Methodists  held  within 
four  miles  of  you."  The  whole  transaction  took  place  in  full 
view  of  the  ferryman's  comrades  on  the  shore,  but  the  inter 
vening  river  insured  "  fair  play,"  and  the  ferryman  felt  himself 
in  Cartwright's  hands.  He  promised  faithfully  to  do  all  that 
was  demanded  of  him.  The  transit  across  the  river  was 
finished;  the  preacher  went  on  his  way;  the  ferryman  kept  his 
word,  and  in  course  of  time  was  converted,  and  became  a  shin 
ing  light  in  the  church.*  Earnest  men  were  these  old  preach 
ers.  Their  souls  were  firmly  convinced  of  the  truth  of  what 
they  had  to  say.  Rugged  in  their  exterior,  like  those  among 
whom  they  mingled,  they  yet  seem  to  have  exhibited  much  of 
the  stern  decision  of  character  and  deep-seated  piety,  that  sig 
nalized  the  church  in  the  days  of  the  non-conformists.  Their 
self-denial  and  heroism  were  none  the  less  noble,  because 
unchronicled;  and,  although  this  type  of  the  pioneer  missionary 
is  fast  fading  away,  yet  the  border  legends  of  the  West  preserve 
the  memory  of  those  who  have  lived  to  make  the  wilderness 
become  a  fruitful  field,  in  more  senses  than  one. 

*Rev.  Mr.  Milburn. 


PULPIT      PECULIARITIES.  343 


Dean  Swift  was  once  solicited  to  preach  a  sermon  for  the 
benefit  of  the  poor.  When  the  time  arrived,  he  arose  and 
selected  his  text  :  "  He  who  giveth  to  the  poor  lendeth  to  the 
Lord."  "Xow,"  said  he,  "my  brethren,  if  you  are  satisfied 
with  the  security,  down  with  the  dust."  He  then  took  his 
seat,  and  there  was  an  enormous  collection. 

The  Rev.  Sydney  Smith,  preaching  a  charity  sermon,  fre 
quently  repeated  the  assertion  that,  of  all  nations,  Englishmen 
were  most  distinguished  for  generosity  and  the  love  of  their 
species.  The  collection  happened  to  be  inferior  to  his  expect 
ations,  and  he  said  that  he  had  evidently  made  a  great  mistake, 
for  that  his  expression  should  have  been,  that  they  were  dis 
tinguished  for  the  love  of  their  specie. 

He  once  said,  in  speaking  of  the  prosy  nature  of  some  ser 
mons,  "  they  are  written,  as  if  sin  were  to  be  taken  out 
of  man,  like  Eve  out  of  Adam — by  putting  him  to  sleep." 

Dr.  Barrow  once  preached  so  long,  that  all  his  congregation 
dropped  off,  leaving  the  sexton  and  himself  alone.  The  sexton 
finding  the  doctor  apparently  no  nearer  a  conclusion,  said  to 
him,  "  Sir,  here  are  the  keys,  please  to  lock  up  the  church, 
when  you  get  through  your  discourse." 

Whitfield,  when  preaching  at  Princeton,  Xew  Jersey,  detect 
ing  one  of  his  auditory  fast  asleep,  came  to  a  pause,  and  deli 
berately  spoke  as  follows  :  "  If  I  had  come  to  speak  to  you  in 
my  own  name,  you  might  question  my  right  to  interrupt  your 
indolent  repose  ;  but  I  have  come  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  of 
Hosts  "  (and  accompanying  these  words  with  a  heavy  blow 
upon  the  pulpit),  he  roared  out,  "and  I  must  and  will  be 
heard."  This  had  the  effect  of  awakening  the  sleeper  ;  and  on 
his  perceiving  it,  his  reverence  eyed  him  significantly,  saying, 
"  Aye,  Aye,  I  have  waked  you  up,  have  I  ?  I  meant  to  do  it." 
This  suggests  another  similar  incident  ;  we  forget  the  name 
of  the  party  or  the  place  ;  however,  the  circumstances  were  as 
follows.  A  clergyman  was  once  preaching,  in  the  sultry  sum 
mer-time,  when  many  of  his  hearers  yielded  to  the  soporific 


344  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


influence  of  the  weather  (or  the  sermon — perhaps  both).  The 
domine  seeing  this  drowsy  condition  of  his  audience,  paused 
for  some  time,  when  the  sleepers  returning  to  consciousness,  lie 
thus  addressed  them,  "  My  good  friends,  this  sermon  cost  me  a 
good  deal  of  labor,  and  I  do  not  think  you  have  paid  to  it  tlu; 
attention  it  deserves,  I  shall,  therefore,  go  over  it  again:"  and 
he  was  as  good  as  his  word.  An  equally  successful  expedient 
was  adopted  by  a  minister,  in  Xew  York,  not  long  since,  while 
holding  forth  to  his  congregation  in  a  style  that  ought  to 
have  kept  them  awake ;  suddenly  he  stopped  in  his  discourse, 
and  said,  "  Brethren,  I  have  preached  about  half  of  my  sermon, 
and  I  perceive  that  twenty-five  or  thirty  of  my  congregation 
are  fast  asleep.  I  shall  postpone  the  delivery  of  the  balance 
of  it  until  they  wake  up  I"  There  was  a  dead  pause  for 
about  five  minutes,  during  which  time  the  sleepers  awoke, 
when  the  preacher  resumed.  Another  instance  might  be  cited, 
which  proved  no  less  effective.  A  worthy  divine,  in  a  church 
at  Norwich,  Connecticut,  observing  many  sleeping,  paused 
awhile,  then  said,  "I  come  now  to  the  third  head  of  my  dis 
course,  to  which  I  ask  the  serious  and  candid  attention  of  all 
who  are  not'  asleep"  giving  a  marked  and  peculiar  emphasis 
to  the  last  word. 

A  preacher  in  the  time  of  James  I.  being  appointed  to  hold 
forth  before  the  Vice-Chancellor  and  heads  of  Colleges  at 
Oxford,  chose  for  his  text,  "  What,  cannot  ye  watch  for  one 
hour  ?"  which  carried  a  personal  allusion,  as  the  Vice-Chancel 
lor  happened  to  be  asleep.  The  preacher  repeated  his 
text  in  an  emphatic  manner  at  the  end  of  every  division 
of  his  discourse,  the  unfortunate  Yice-Chancellor  as  often 
awoke,  and  this  happened"  so  often  that  at  last  all  present 
could  very  well  see  the  joke.  The  Vice-Chancellor  was  so 
nettled  at  the  disturbance  he  had  met  with,  and  the  talk  it 
occasioned,  that  he  complained  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canter 
bury,  who  immediately  sent  for  the  young  clergyman,  to  reprove 
him  for  what  he  had  done.  In  the  course  of  the  conference 


PULPIT      PECULIARITIES.  345 


which  ensued  between  the  archbishop  and  the  preacher,  the 
latter  gave  so  many  proofs  of  his  wit  and  good  sense,  that  his 
grace  procured  him  the  honor  of  preaching  before  the  king. 
Here  also  he  had  his  joke.  He  gave  out  his  test  in  these 
words,  "  James  the  First  and  Sixth,  '  Waver  not  ;' "  which,  of 
courst1,  everybody  present  saw  to  be  a  stroke  at  the  indecisive 
character  of  the  monarch.  James,  equally  quicksighted,  ex 
claimed,  "  He  is  at  me  already."  But  he  was,  upon  the  whole, 
so  well  pleased  with  this  clerical  wag  as  to  make  him  one  of 
his  chaplains  in  ordinary.  He  afterwards  went  to  Oxford,  and 
preached  a  farewell  sermon  on  the  text,  "  Sleep  on  now,  and 
take  your  rest." 

The  sin  of  sleeping  during  service  time  is  of  no  modern 
date.  In  Henry  Seventh's  chapel,  Westminster  Abbey,  there 
are  ingeniously  contrived  chairs,  for  preventing  the  drowsy 
monks  indulging  a  nap.  These  chairs  are  pleasant  enough  if 
you  preserve  your  balance,  but  if  you  should  become  oblivious, 
you  suddenly  find  yourself  on  the  middle  of  the  floor. 

A  minister  of  the  "Kirk"  of  Scotland,  once  discovered  his 
wife  asleep  in  the  midst  of  his  homily  on  the  Sabbath.  So, 
pausing  in  the  steady,  and  possibly  somewhat  monotonous 
How  of  his  oratory,  he  broke  forth  with  this  personal  address, 
sharp  and  clear,  but  very  deliberate  : 

"Susan  !" 

Susan  opened  her  eyes  and  ears  in  a  twinkling,  as  did  all 
other  dreamers  in  the  house,  whether  asleep  or  awake. 

"  Susan,  I  didna  marry  ye  for  your  wealth,  sin'  ye  hae'd 
none  !  And  I  didna  marry  ye  for  your  beauty,  that  the  hail 
congregation  can  see.  And  if  ye  have  no  grace,  I  have  made 
but  a  sair  bargain  !1' 

Susan's  slumbers  were  effectually  broken  up  for  that  day. 

A  clergyman  of  Cambridge,  Mass.,  was  once  in  a  singular 
dilemma,  according  to  his  own  showing  :  he  told  his  people 
that  if  he  spoke  softly,  those  at  the  end  of  the  church  would 
not  be  able  to  hear  him,  and  if  loud,  those  near  the  pulpit 

15* 


346  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


would  awake  !  We  have  beard  of  a  worse  disaster  which 
befell  a  certain  deacon.  He  fell  asleep,  and,  as  is  usual  in  such 
cases,  made  repeated  inclinations  of  his  head  ;  when  suddenly 
it  rebounded  back  with  such  force  as  to  throw  his  wig  into  the 
pew  behind  him.  In  his  consternation,  vainly  seeking  for 
his  vagrant  wig,  where  it  could  not  be  found — in  his  own 
pew — he  covered  his  bald  pate  with  his  red  silk  handkerchief, 
to  the  great  scandal  of  the  congregation  and  his  own  greater 
dismay. 

A  celebrated  clergyman  once  told  his  parishioners  he  should 
reserve  the  best  efforts  of  his  mind  for  rainy  days — the  worse 
the  weather,  the  better  should  be  his  sermons — and  he  kept 
his  word.  The  consequence  naturally  was,  that  his  church  was 
never  so  well  filled  as  in  wet  weather,  and  the  harder  the  rain 
poured  down,  the  more  the  people  flocked  in,  until  it  finally 
became  his  practice  to  include  in  his  prayers,  rainy  Sundays  ! 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Adams  of  Leominster,  was  an  eccentric  char 
acter.  A  neighboring  minister — a  mild,  inoffensive  man — 
with  whom  he  was  about  to  exchange,  said  to  him,  knowing 
the  peculiar  bluntness  of  his  character — "  You  will  find  some 
panes  of  glass  broken  in  the  pulpit  window,  and  possibly  you 
may  suffer  from  the  cold.  The  cushion,  too,  is  in  a  bad  condi 
tion  ;  but  I  beg  of  you  not  to  say  anything  to  my  people  on 
the  subject ;  they  are  poor,"  &c.  "  Oh  no  ! — oh  no  !''  said  Mr. 
Adams.  But  ere  he  left  home,  he  filled  a  bag  with  rags,  and 
took  it  with  him.  When  he  had  been  in  the  pulpit  a  short 
time,  feeling  somewhat  incommoded  by  the  too  free  circulation 
of  air,  he  deliberately  took  from  the  bag  a  handful  or  two  of 
rags,  and  -stuffed  them  into  the  window.  Towards  the  close  of 
his  discourse,  which  was  more  or  less  upon  the  duties  of  a 
people  toward  their  clergyman,  he  became  very  animated,  and 
purposely  brought  down  both  fists  with  a  tremendous  force 
upon  the  pulpit  cushion.  The  feathers  flew  in  all  directions, 
and  the  cushion  was  pretty  much  used  up.  He  instantly 
checked  the  current  of  his  thought,  and  simply  exclaiming, 


PULPIT      PECULIARITIES.  347 


"  Why,  how  these  feathers  fly  !"  proceeded  with  his  sermon. 
He  had  fulfilled  his  promise  of  not  addressing  the  society  on 
the  subject,  but  had  taught  them  a  lesson  not  to  be  misun 
derstood.  On  the  next  Sabbath  the  window  and  cushion  were 
found  in  excellent  repair. 

Dean  Swift  has  the  following  pointed  remarks  about  absentees 
from  church.  "  There  is  no  excuse  so  trivial  that  will  not  pass 
upon  some  men's  consciences,  to  excuse  their  attendance  at  the 
public  worship  of  Grod.  Some  are  so  unfortunate  as  to  be 
always  indisposed  on  the  Lord's  day,  and  think  nothing  so 
unwholesome  as  the  air  of  a  church.  Others  have  their  affairs 
so  oddly  contrived  as  to  be  always  unluckily  prevented  by 
business.  With  some  it  is  a  great  mark  of  wit  and  deep  under 
standing  to  stay  at  home  on  Sabbath.  Others  again  discover 
strange  fits  of  laziness,  which  seize  them  particularly  on  that 
day,  and  confine  them  to  their  beds.  Others  are  absent  out 
of  mere  contempt  for  religion.  And,  lastly,  there  are  not  a 
few  who  look  upon  it  as  a  day  of  rest;  therefore  claim  the 
privilege  of  their  cattle,  to  keep  the  Sabbath  by  eating,  drink 
ing,  aud  sleeping,  after  the  toil  and  labor  of  the  week. 

The  celebrated  Robert  Hall  once  visited  London,  for  the 
purpose  of  hearing  Dr.  John  W.  Mason,  of  New  York,  deliver 
a  discourse  before  the  London  Missionary  Society.  The  extra 
ordinary  effect  which  the  masterly  address  of  Mason  had  pro 
duced,  was  the  theme,  for  the  time,  of  general  observation,  and 
Mr.  Hall  was  among  the  most  enthusiastic  of  its  admirers. 
Shortly  afcer  his  return  to  Leicester,  a  certain  reverend  gentle 
man  made  him  an  accidental  visit,  when  Mr.  Hall  requested 
him  to  officiate  in  his  pulpit  that  evening,  assigning,  as  a  rea 
son,  that  he  had  just  returned  from  London,  oppressed  with  a 
sense  of  the  wonderful  eloquence  of  Dr.  Mason  of  Xew  York. 
The  visitor  affected  great  desire  to  be  excused  preaching  before 
so  distinguished  a  scholar  as  Mr.  Hall.  The  latter,  however, 
would  take  no  denial,  insisting  that  if  he  would  not  preach,  his 
people  would  have  no  sermon  that  evening.  Our  clerical  friend, 


348  SALAD      FOll      TIIK      SOCIAL. 


who  is  described  as  "  a  little  pompous  personage,  as  round  as 
a  sugar-barrel — a  man  of  great  verbosity,  and  paucity  of 
thought,"  at  length  overcame  his  scruples,  and  ascended  the  pul 
pit.  At  the  close  of  the  services,  Mr.  Hall,  with  great  warmth  of 
feeling,  thanked  him  heartily  for  his  discourse  ;  which,  he  said, 
had  given  him  more  comfort  than  any  sermon  he  had  ever 
heard  in  his  life.  This  assertion  inflamed  the  vanity  of  the  one, 
and  superinduced  the  sarcasm  of  the  other.  The  former,  with 
ill-concealed  eagerness,  urged  Mr.  Hall  to  state  what  there  was 
in  the  effort  that  afforded  him  so  much  pleasure.  He  replied, 
"  Sir,  I  have  just  returned  from  hearing  that  great  man,  Dr. 
Mason,  of  Xew  York.  Why,  Sir,  he  is  my  very  beau  ideal  of 
a  minister ;  he  reminds  me  more  strongly  than  any  other  of 
our  day,  of  what  one  might  suppose  the  Apostle  Paul  to  have 
been.  Such  profound  thought,  such  majesty  of  diction,  and 
such  brilliancy  of  illustration,  I  have  never  heard  equalled;  and 
it  left  me  with  such  an  overpowering  conviction  of  my  own 
insignificancy,  that  I  had  resolved  never  to  enter  the  pulpit 
again,"  and  rising  up,  he  energetically  exclaimed,  "  But  thank 
God,  I  have  heard  you,  Sir,  and  I  feel  myself  a  man  again  !" 

A  certain  noviciate  once  called  upon  Mr.  Hall,  to  solicit  his 
advice  upon  what  he  considered  a  very  important  matter  ;  to 
wit,  his  supposed  call  to  the  ministry.  This  gentleman  stated 
that  he  was  impressed  with  the  idea  that  it  was  his  duty  to 
obey  that  call,  but  that  as  yet  he  could  see  "  no  door  open." 
"No  matter  for  that,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Hall,  "if  the  Lord  has 
called  you,  he  will  open  a  door."  "  But,  Sir,  there  is  one  pas 
sage  of  Scripture  which  causes  me  much  trouble."  "  "Well,  Sir, 
what  is  it?"  was  the  reply.  "It  refers  to  the  hiding  of  a 
talent  in  a  napkin."  "  Oh  !  my  good  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Hall, 
"  don't  let  that  give  you  any  concern,  this  little  handkerchief 
of  mine  (pulling  out  his  own),  would  cover  a  score  of  such 
talents  as  yours." 

It  must  not,  from  the  foregoing,  be  inferred  that  Mr.  Hall 
was  accustomed  to  indulge  in  such  severe  sarcasms,  excepting 


PULPIT      PECULIARITIES.  349 


when  he  saw  the  weakness  of  the  man  usurping  the  place  of 
his  sacred  vocation. 

Most  sermons  are  short-lived  enough,  but  we  have  heard  of 
one  of  extraordinary  longevity,  and  it  is  said  it  was  eminently 
productive  of  good.  We  refer  to  a  discourse  by  Dr.  Griffin, 
of  J^ew  York,  which  he  repeated  ninety  times.  He  devoted 
great  pains  to  it,  and  revised,  and  re-revised,  it  with  diligent 
care. 

Some  ministers  are  more  forcible  with  their  hands  than 
their  heads.  It  is  reported  of  a  clergyman  in  a  county  town, 
that  he  was  a  most  powerful  preacher,  since  he  is  known  to  have 
knocked  to  pieces  four  pulpit  Bibles  in  less  than  two  years. 

The  Rev.  Hamilton  Paul,  a  Scottish  clergyman,  is  said  to  be  a 
reviver  of  Dean  Swift's  walk  of  wit  in  the  choice  of  texts.  For 
example,  when  he  left  the  town  of  Ayr,  where  he  was  understood 
to  have  been  a  great  favorite  with  the  fair  sex,  he  preached  his 
valedictory  sermon  from  this  passage,  "and  they  all  fell  upon 
Paul's  neck  and  kissed  him."  Another  time  when  he  was 
called  on  to  preach  before  a  military  company,  in  green  uni 
forms,  he  preached  from  the  words,  "  and  I  beheld  men  like 
trees,  walking."  He  once  made  serious  proposals  to  a  young 
lady  whose  Christian  name  was  Lydia.  On  this  occasion,  the 
clerical  wit  took  for  his  text,  "  And  a  certain  woman,  named 
Lydia,  heard  us  ;  whose  heart  the  Lord  opened,  that  she 
attended  unto  the  things  which  were  spoken  of  Paul."  He 
published  a  volume  offacetice  under  the  title  of  "  Paul's  Epistle 
to  the  Ladies." 

We  have  heard  of  a  case  no  less  extraordinary,  which  occurred 
some  fifty  years  ago,  in  Virginia.  An  itinerant  preacher  being 
invited  to  hold  forth  in  one  of  the  early  settlements  there,  took 
for  his  text  the  words  "Though  after  my  skin,  worms  destroy 
tliis  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shall  I  see  God."  He  divided  his 
text  into  three  parts,  thus — "  first,  the  skin-worms  ;  secondly, 
what  they  done  ;  and  thirdly,  what  the  man  seen  after  he  was 
eaten  up." 


350  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


Some  dreary  expositors  of  the  Gospel,  possibly  sent  to  chal 
lenge  our  patience,  seem  to  be  endowed  with  at  least  one  faculty, 
that  of  dulling  all  its  bright  and  beautiful  truths;  they  see 
things  "through  a  glass,  darkly."  Good  George  Herbert  sug 
gests  thus  charitably  our  forbearance  with  such;  he  says: 

"  Do  not  grudge 

To  pick  out  treasures  from  an  earthen  pot ; 
The  worst  speak  something  good.     If  all  want  sense, 
God  takes  a  text  and  preacheth  patience." 

This  apology,  even,  can  scarcely  be  admissible  in  cases  like 
that  last  cited;  they  are,  however,  happily  of  rare  occurrence. 

The  clerk  of  a  retired  parish  in  Northwest  Devon,  who  had 
to  read  the  first  lesson,  always  used  to  make  a  hash  of  Shad- 
rach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego;  and  as  the  names  are  twelve 
times  repeated  in  the  third  chapter  of  Daniel,  after  getting 
through  with  them  the  first  time,  he  afterwards  styled  them  the 
"  aforesaid  gentlemen." 

The  Rev.  Daniel  Isaac  was  both  a  great  wag  and  a  great 
smoker.  "  Ah,  there  you  are,"  cried  a  lady  who  surprised 
him  one  day,  enjoying  his  pipe,  "at  your  idol  again."  "Yes, 
my  dear  madam,"  he  replied,  "I  hope  you  do  not  find  fault 
with  me,  for  I  ought  to  be  commended,  as  you  see  I'm  burn 
ing  it." 

Although  this  world  is  "  a  thorny  waste,"  it  seems  some 
good  men  are  not  in  any  hurry  to  leave  it.  The  llev.  John 
Skinner,  of  Linshart,  Longside,  while  passing  along  a  street  in 
the  village,  was  met  by  an  old  woman,  who  was  in  the  habit  of 
begging.  As  was  her  practice,  she  made  a  great  solicitation 
for  a  half-penny.  On  feeling  his  pocket,  Mr.  Skinner  discov 
ered  that  he  had  not  a  half-penny,  but  was  possessed  of  a 
penny-piece,  which  he  handed  to  the  woman.  The  sum  being 
double  what  she  expected,  so  excited  her  gratitude,  that  she 
exclaimed:  "Lord  bless  you,  sir,  and  may  a'  that's  gude 
attend  your  bonny  family;  and  for  yourseP,  God  sen' that  ye 


PULPIT      PECULIARITIES.  351 


may  win  to  the  kingdom  o'  heaven  this  very  night  !"  "  Mony 
thanks  to  you,  Janet,  for  your  good  wishes,"  said  Mr.  Skinner  ; 
"  but  you  needna  have  been  so  very  particular  about  the  time, !" 

An  itinerant  minister  was  preaching  on  a  very  sultry  day,  in 
a  small  room,  and  was  much  annoyed  by  those  who  casually 
dropped  in  after  the  service  had  commenced,  invariably  closing 
the  door  after  them.  His  patience  being  at  length  exhausted 
by  the  extreme  oppressiveness  of  the  heat,  he  vociferated  to  an 
offender,  "  Friend,  I  believe  if  I  was  preaching  in  a  bottle,  you 
would  put  the  cork  in!" 

A  specimen  of  an  absent-minded  parson  may  be  seen  in  the 
following  extract  from  the  life  of  Coleridge,  by  James  Gillman: 
"  The  father  of  the  bard  and  metaphysician  was  a  poor  country 
parson,  of  a  very  absent  mind.  It  is  said  of  him,  that  on  one 
occasion,  having  to  breakfast  with  his  bishop,  he  went,  as  was 
the  practice  of  that  day,  into  a  barber's  shop  to  have  his  head 
shaved,  wigs  being  then  in  common  use.  Just  as  the  operation 
was  completed,  the  clock  struck  nine,  the  hour  at  which  the 
bishop  punctually  breakfasted.  Roused,  as  from  a  reverie,  he 
instantly  left  the  barber's  shop,  and,  in  his  haste  forgetting  his 
wig,  appeared  at  the  breakfast  table,  where  the  bishop  and  his 
party  had  assembled.  The  bishop,  well  acquainted  with  his 
absent  manners,  courteously  and  playfully  requested  him  to 
walk  into  an  adjoining  room,  and  give  his  opinion  of  a  mirror 
which  had  arrived  from  London  a  few  days  previously,  and 
which  disclosed  to  his  astonished  guest  the  consequences  of  his 
haste  and  forgetfulness." 

We  close  our  Eccentrities  of  the  Pulpit  with  a  few  amusing 
and  characteristic  anecdotes  of  Rowland  Hill,  the  well-known, 
excellent,  though  eccentric  clergyman  of  London. 

A  dissenting  minister  once  complaining  of  the  dealing  he  met 
with  from  an  ecclesiastical  board,  to  Rowland  Hill,  observed 
that  "  for  his  part  he  did  not  see  the  difference  between  a  board 
and  a  bench,"  meaning,  that  the  rule  of  his  board  was  as 
stringent  as  that  of  the  bishops.  "  Pardon  me,  my  friend," 


352  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


replied  Hill,  "  I  will  show  yon  a  most  essential  difference 
between  the  two  :  A  board  is  a  bench  that  has  no  legs  to  stand 
ttpon." 

With  many  strong  points  of  character,  he  combined  notions 
prodigiously  odd.  One  of  those  commonly  called  Antinomians, 
one  day  called  on  Rowland  Hill,  to  call  him  to  account  for  his 
too  severe  and  legal  gospel.  "  Do  you,  sir,"  asked  Rowland, 
"  hold  the  ten  commandments  to  be  a  rule  of  life  to  Christians  ?" 
"  Certainly  not,"  replied  the  visitor.  The  Minister  rang  the 
bell,  and  on  the  servant  making  his  appearance,  he  quietly 
added,  "John,  show  that  man  the  door,  and  keep  your  eye  on 
him  until  he  is  beyond  the  reach  of  every  article  of  wearing 
apparel,  or  other  property  in  the  hall !" 

He  once  said,  on  observing  some  persons  enter  his  chapel  to 
avoid  the  rain  that  was  falling,  "Many  persons  are  to  be  blamed 
for  making  their  religion  a  cloak  ;  but  I  do  not  think  those  are 
much  better,  who  make  it  an  umbrella!"  Again,  on  receiving 
anonymous  letters  from  some  of  his  congregation,  he  remarked, 
"If  yon  wish  me  to  read  your  anonymous  letters,  you  must  enclose 
a  five-pound  note  in  them  for  some  good  charity."  On  another 
occasion,  he  said  "  I  do  not  want  the  walls  of  separation  between 
different  orders  of  Christians  to  be  destroyed,  but  only  lowered, 
that  we  may  shake  hands  a  little  easier  over  them." 

He  was  a  great  observer  of  the  different  modes  of  preaching, 
and  once  drew  up  in  his  peculiar  style,  a  string  of  characteris 
tics  of  the  various  kind  of  pulpit  orators.  He  thus  describes 
them  :  Bold  Manner.— The  man  who  preaches  what  he  feels 
without  fear  or  diffidence.  Self -Confident. — A  man  who  goes 
by  nobody's  judgment  but  his  own.  Rash. — A  preacher  who 
says  what  comes  uppermost,  without  any  consideration.  Ram 
bling. — A  man  who  says  all  that  pops  in  his  mind  without  any 
connection.  Stiff". — One  who  pins  himself  down  to  think  and 
speak  without  any  deviation.  Powerful. — The  man  who  preaches 
from  the  bottom  of  his  heart  the  truth  of  the  Gospel  with 
energy,  to  the  consciences  of  his  people,  finical. — He  who 


PULPIT     PECULIARITIES.  353 


minces  out  fine  words  with  nothing  in  them.  Sober. — The  man 
who  lulls  you  fast  asleep.  Elegant. — The  man  who  employs  all 
his  brains  upon  dressing  words,  without  ever  aiming  at  the  heart. 
Conceited. — He  who  vainly  aims  at  everything,  and  says  nothing. 
Wehh  Manner. — A  man  that  bawls  out  very  good  things  till 
he  can  bawl  no  longer.  *  *  *  Dogmatic. — A  man  who  goes 
by  his  own  brains,  right  or  wrong.  Peevish. — One  who  picks 
into  everybody's  thoughts,  and  thinks  no  one  right  but  himself. 
Fanciful. — One  who,  instead  of  being  led  by  wisdom,  runs  after 
a  thousand  visionary  whimsies  and  conceits.  Self-important. — 
Thinks  nobody  like  himself.  Noisy.— A.  loud  roar  and  nothing 
in  it.  He  once  said  of  a  man  who  knew  the  truth, 
and  seemed  afraid  to  preach  it  in  its  fullness,  "  He  preaches  the 
Gospel  as  the  donkey  mumbles  the  thistle,  very  cautiously." 
•  Thus  much  for  the  illustration  of  our  subject,  which  is  sus 
ceptible  of  much  greater  extension.  If  eccentricity  be  occa 
sionally  a  concomitant  of  genius,  it  is  quite  worth  while  to 
tolerate  it  if  even  allied  to  the  clerical  profession  ;  provided  it 
is  restricted  within  proper  limits,  and  is  rendered  subservient 
to  the  interests  of  truth.  If,  however,  we  could  have  the 
genius  without  the  eccentricity,  it  would  be  more  desirable ; 
because  of  all  places  in  the  wide  world,  the  sanctuary  is  the 
most  sacred,  and  those  who  minister  at  the  altar,  should  be 
the  most  solemn  and  sincere. 

Yet  as  Pascal  observes,  it  should  not  be  imagined  that  the 
life  of  a  good  Christian  must  necessarily  be  a  life  of  melancholy 
and  gloominess,  for  he  only  resigns  some  pleasures  to  enjoy 
others  infinitely  greater. 

An  old  writer  asks — "Who  are  the  most  godlike  of  men  ?" 
The  question  might  be  a  puzzling  one,  unless  our  language 
answered  it  for  us — the  godliest. 

"  Religion,"  said  Webster,  "  is  the  tie  that  connects  man 
with  his  Maker,  and  holds  him  to  his  throne.  A  man  with  no 
sense  of  religious  duty  is  he  whom  the  Scriptures  describe  in 


354  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


such  terse  but  terrific  language,  as  living  '  without  God  in  the 
world.' " 

The  words  of  Milton  may  be  applied  to  the  possession  of 
that  "  peace  which  passeth  all  understanding,"  the  conscious 
ness  of  a  coming  blissful  immortality — 

"  One  sip  of  this 

Will  bathe  the  drooping  spirits  in  delight 
Beyond  the  bliss  of  dreams.    Be  wise,  and  taste." 

The  reader  is  already  familiar  with  the  names  of  those  theo 
logical  magnates,  Luther,  Melanchthon,  Calvin,  Bullinger, 
Bucer,  Latimer,  and  Ridley,  and  a  score  of  others,  including 
Jeremy  Taylor,  Bates,  Isaac  Barrow,  &c.,  but  he  may  not  be 
so  well  acquainted  with  that  of  Edward  Irving  ;  we  therefore 
annex  the  following  high  tribute  to  his  genius  and  worth  from 
a  critic  no  less  distinguished  than  Coleridge.  He  thus  speaks 
of  him.  "  I  hold  that  Edward  Irving  possesses  more  of  the 
spirit  and  purposes  of  the  first  Reformers  ;  that  ho  has  more 
of  the  head  and  heart,  the  life,  the  unction,  and  the  genial 
power  of  Martin  Luther,  than  any  man  of  this  and  the  last 
century.  I  see  in  Edward  Irving  a  minister  of  Christ,  after  the 
order  of  Paul." 

Coleridge,  referring  to  the  theological  literature  of  the  seven 
teenth  century,  asserts  it  as  his  conviction  "  that  in  any  half 
dozen  sermons  of  Donne  or  Taylor,  there  are  more  thoughts, 
more  facts  and  images,  more  incitements  to  inquiry  and  intel 
lectual  effort,  than  are  presented  to  the  congregations  of  the 
present  day  in  as  many  churches  or  meetings,  during  twice  as 
many  months.  The  very  length  of  the  discourses,  with  which 
these  rich  souls  of  wit  and  knowledge  fixed  the  eyes,  ears,  and 
hearts  of  their  crowded  congregations,  are  a  source  of  wonder 
now-a-days,  and  we  may  add,  of  self-congratulation,  to  many 
a  sober  Christian,  who  forgets  with  what  delight  he  himself 


PULPIT     PECULIARITIES.  355 


has  listened  to  a  two-hours'  harangue  on  a  loan,  or  tax-bill,  or 
a  trial  of  some  remarkable  cause  or  culprit:  the  transfer  of  the 
interest  makes  and  explains  the  whole  difference.  For  although 
much  may  be  fairly  charged  on  the  revolution  in  the  mode  of 
preaching,  as  well  as  in  the  matter,  since  the  fresh  morning 
and  fervent  noon  of  the  Reformation,  when  there  was  no  need 
to  visit  the  conventicles  of  fanaticism,  in  order  to, 

"  See  God's  ambassador  in  pulpit  stand, 
Where  they  could  take  notes  from  his  look  and  hand  ; 
And  from  his  speaking  action  bear  away 
More  sermon,  than  our  preachers  used  to  say." 

The  pulpit  may  be  styled  the  palladium  of  the  world's  vir 
tue — the  conservator  of  its  liberties,  the  panacea  for  its  woes, 
and  the  prophecy  of  its  future  restoration  and  glory.  Its  pre 
rogative  is  to  exert  a  paramount  power  over  the  common  heart. 
Its  themes  are  sublime  and  momentous — the  arcana  of  science 
are  rendered  tributary  to  its  teachings,  because  the  works  illus 
trate  the  Will  of  the  Supreme.  This  mission  of  the  Gospel,  it 
was  tha.t  fired  the  zeal  of  that  worthy  of  old,  whose  eloquent 
appeals  "  shook  Areopagus,  and  reverberated  through  the 
Forum." 

"The  Christian  priesthood,  although  the  temptation  incident 
to  conventional  elevation  may  have  served  to  develope  among 
them  many  of  the  subtler  forms  of  evil  latent  in  the  undisciplined 
heart,  is  yet  lustrous  with  many  virtues.  What  sweetness  has 
baptized  the  clerical  function  in  the  past  !  What  fortitude, 
what  self-denial,  what  patience,  what  labor  in  season  and  out 
of  season,  have  been  the  heritage  of  the  great  mass  of  these 
men  !  What  stores  of  learning  have  they  accumulated  ;  what 
splendid  additions  have  they  made  to  the  best  literature  of 
every  land:  how  they  have  enriched  the  sciences  by  their  obser 
vation  and  studious  inquiries  ;  how  they  havo  kept  the  flame 
of  patriotism  aglow  ;  how  they  have  encouraged  the  generous 


356  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


ambition  of  youth,  and  directed  it  to  worthy  and  useful  ends; 
how  they  have  dignified  the  family  altar,  and  cherished  the 
purity  of  woman,  and  diffused  through  society  the  charm  of 
honest  and  gentle  manners  ;  all  these  things  must  be  cordially 
acknowledged  by  every  one  competent  to  speak  on  the  ques 
tion."* 

*  Chapin. 


THE   LARCENIES    OF   LITERATURE. 

ORIGINALITY  has  been  defined  "  unconscious  or  undetected 
imitation."  "  As  for  originality,"  wrote  Byron,  in  his  journal, 
"all  pretensions  to  it  are  ridiculous;  'there  is  nothing  new 
under  the  sun.'  "  Moore,  once  observing  Byron  with  a  book 
full  of  paper-marks,  asked-  him  what  it  was.  "  Only  a  book," 
he  answered,  "from  which  I  am  trying  to  crib;  as  I  do  when 
ever  I  can,  and  that's  the  way  I  get  the  character  of  an 
original  poet."  "  Though,  in  imputing  to  himself  premeditated 
plagiarism,"  observes  his  biographer,  "he  was,  of  course,  but 
jesting;  it  was,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  his  practice,  when 
engaged  in  the  composition  of  any  work,  to  excite  thus  his 
vein,  by  the  perusal  of  others  on  the  same  subject  or  plan, 
from  which  the  slightest  hint,  caught  by  his  imagination  as  he 
read,  was  sufficient  to  kindle  there  such  a  train  of  thought  as, 
but  for  that  spark,  had  never  been  awakened,  and  of  which  he 
himself  soon  forgot  the  source." 

Emerson  says  an  author  is  original  in  proportion  to  the 
amount  he  steals  from  Plato;  and  to  those  who  are  not  much 

857 


358  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


acquainted  with  Plato,  he  thus  divulges  the  secret  of  much  of 
bis  claim  to  originality. 

Even  Seneca  complains  that  the  ancients  had  compelled  him 
to  borrow  from  them,  what  they  would  have  taken  from  him, 
had  he  been  lucky  enough  to  have  preceded  them.  "  Every  one  of 
my  writings,"  says  Goethe,  in  the  same  candid  spirit,  "  has 
been  furnished  to  me  by  a  thousand  different  persons,  a  thousand 
different  things;  the  learned  and  the  ignorant,  the  wise  and  the 
foolish,  infancy  and  age,  have  come  in  turn,  generally,  without 
having  the  least  suspicion  of  it,  to  bring  me  the  offering  of  their 
thoughts,  their  faculties,  their  experience:  often  have  they  sowed 
the  harvest  I  have  reaped.  My  work  is  that  of  an  aggregation 
of  human  beings,  taken  from  the  whole  of  nature;  it  bears  the 
name  of  Goethe." 

"  It  is  in  the  power  of  any  writer  to  be  original,  by  deserting 
nature,  and  seeking  the  quaint  and  fantastical;  but  literary 
monsters,  like  all  others,  are  generally  short-lived.  '  When  I  was 
a  young  man,'  says  Goldsmith,  '  being  anxious  to  distinguish 
myself,  I  was  perpetually  starting  new  propositions;  but  I  soon 
gave  this  over,  for  I  found  that  generally,  what  was  new  was 
false.'  Strictly  speaking,  we  may  be  original  without  being 
new;  our  thoughts  may  be  our  own,  and  yet  commonplace."* 

On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  admitted  with  Pollock,  that 
while  "  the  siccaneous  critic  or  the  meagre  scribbler  may  hang 
his  head  in  despair,  and  murmur  out  that  what  can  be  done  is 
done  already;  yet  he  who  has  drank  of  Castalia's  fount,  and 
listened  to  the  mighty  voice  of  the  Parnassian  sisters,  and  who 
casts  his  bold  eye  on  Creation,  inexhaustible  as  its  Maker,  and 
catches  inspiration  while  he  gazes;  will  take  the  lyre  in  his 
hand,  delight  with  new  melody  the  ear  of  mortals,  and  write 
his  name  among  the  immortal  in  song.  A  cotemporary.f  wri 
ting  on  this  subject,  insists  that,  "  what  is  often  termed  origin 
ality,  is  more  a  manufactured  article  than  a  natural  product. 
Moore,  in  dwelling  upon  the  elaborate  care  with  which  all  the 

*  Tin  Trumpet.  tKuickerbocker. 


THE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  359 


performances  of  Sheridan  were  prepared,  was  led  to  exclaim, 
'  genius  is  patience.'  An  original  thinker  may  be  considered  as 
one  who  has  grown  mentally  fat  upon  the  food  great  minds  in 
all  ages  of  the  world  have  afforded  him.  Montaigne  and 
Emerson,  as  we  have  seen,  have  confessed,  with  careless  frank 
ness,  some  of  the  sources  of  their  originality. 

"  Of  course  i-t  is  necessary  that  nature  should  have  furnished 
a  tolerably  broad  and  capacious  foundation  for  mental  fatness 
to  be  laid  upon.  It  is  impossible  to  make  a  very  fat  hog  of  a 
Guinea  pig.  All  men  have  not  a  disposition,  and  could  not 
cultivate  one,  to  grapple  with  the  deep  and  subtle  thoughts  of 
profound  minds.  'Books,  books,'  says  Bulwer;  'magnets  to 
which  all  iron  minds  insensibly  move.'  Minds  of  a  softer  metal, 
of  a  less  investigating  character,  do  not  move  in  that  direction. 
The  mind  grows  by  what  it  feeds  upon,  and  no  man  can  be  an 
original  thinker  without  a  good  deal  of  knowledge.  All  that 
was  wanting,  perhaps,  to  develop  the  powers  of  '  the  village 
Hampden,'  '  the  mute,  inglorious  Milton/  and  '  the  guiltless 
Cromwell,'  that  the  country  churchyard  contained,  was  know 
ledge.  But  knowledge  is  of  no  value  unless  it  is  well  diges 
ted;  and  in  this  respect  nature  is  an  infallible  guide.  Minds, 
like  stomachs,  have  little  relish  for  food  they  cannot  digest; 
and  there  is  every  variety  of  strength  in  the  digestive  powers  of 
the  mind  as  of  the  body.'' 

The  same  idea  is  enforced  by  another  writer,  in  a  more  face 
tious  strain.  He  says;  "We  prey  upon  the  literary  produc 
tions  of  the  past,  as  we  do  upon  the  brains  of  Italian  and 
French  cooks  of  the  present,  and  while  our  palates  will  carry 
a  teeth-watering  reminiscence  of  some  favorite  dish,  concocted 
by  the  one,  while  the  tongue  which  discussed  it  articulates,  is 
it  remarkable  that  our  pates  should  should  retain  some  of  the 
attic  flavor  of  the  former  ?  Our  constitutions  are  made  or 
unmade  by  the  food  we  eat.  Our  brains,  by  the  books  we 
read.  Men  of  great  natural  genius,  and  who  have  not  had  oppor 
tunities  for  much  book  '  culture.'  even  as  the  most  bodily  healthy 


360  SALAD   FOR   THE   SOCIAL. 


people,  are  evidences  of  the  truth  that  strong,  simple  food  is  far 
superior  to  the  diablerie  of  modern  wizard-cooks,  in  either  case." 

Emerson  assumes,  that  it  is  the  duty  and  the  province  of 
great  minds  to  adopt  the  thoughts  of  others — to  embalm  them 
for  futurity — to  take  the  roughly  hewn  blocks  from  the  thought- 
mines  of  others  and  fashion  them  into  mosques,  feudal  towers, 
or  pyramids,  as  the  loving,  chivalrous,  or  sublime  spirit  of  the 
builder  may  suggest. 

This  communistic  appropriation  of  ideas — this  building  from 
another's  quarry  is  a  species  of  /ree-masonry  which  is  qualified 
entirely  by  the  name  of  him  who  is  caught  in  the  fact. 

It  has  been  gravely  asked  who  are  original  thinkers;  even 
those  who  rank  as  philosophical  writers  adopt  the  opinions  of 
their  predecessors — some  favorite  theory  of  a  former  age;  and 
having  espoused  it^  they  endorse  the  new  creed  with  an  enthu 
siasm  as  zealous  as  if  it  were  one  of  their  own  creation.  There 
are  a  few  noble  exceptions  to  the  rule,  however,  for  the  honor 
of  learning;  the  daring  Florentine,  for  instance:  a  large  propor 
tion  of  our  modern  literature  might  be,  with  advantage  to  all 
parties,  suppressed,  since  it  possesses  in  the  main  but  the  ques 
tionable  merit  of  a  metamorphoses. 

The  remark  ascribed  to  Pope  Ganganclli,  that  all  books  in 
the  known  world  might  be  comprised  in  six  thousand  folio 
volumes,  if  filled  with  original  matter — was,  we  think,  an 
extremely  liberal  estimate. 

One  age  battens  upon  its  predecessor  with  gnome-like  rapa-. 
city,  and  thus  a  host  of  pseudo-authors  acquire  an  undeserved 
reputation.  The  quaint  lines  of  Chaucer  still  apply  with  full 

force — 

"  Out  of  the  olde  fieldes,  as  men  sayeth, 

Cometh  all  this  new  corne  fro  yeare  to  yeare, 
So  out  of  olde  bookes,  in  good  faith, 
Cometh  all  this  newe  science  that  men  lere." 

Homer,*  Dante,  Rabelais,  and  Shakspeare,  Chateaubriand 

*  Homer's  Gardens  of  Alcinous  in  the  Odyssey,  and  the  Elysium  of  the  JEneiad,  were 
perhaps  taken  from  the  Mosaic  account  of  Eden. 


1HE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  361 


styles  the  great  universal  individualities  and  great  parent 
geniuses,  who  appear  to  have  nourished  all  others.  The  first 
fertilized  antiquity;  JBschylus,  Euripides,  Sophocles,  Horace, 
Aristophanes,  and  Virgil  were  his  sons.  Dante  iii  like  manner 
was  the  father  of  modern  Italy,  from  Petrarch  to  Tasso. 
Rabelais  created  the  literature  of  France;  Montaigne,  La 
Fontaine,  Moliere,  descended  from  him;  while  England  owes 
all  to  Shakspeare.  People  often  deny  the  authority  of  these 
supreme  masters — they  rebel  against  them,  proclaim  their 
defects,  but  with  as  much  propriety  as  one  might  the  spots 
on  the  sun's  disc;  they  even  accuse  them  of  tediousness, 
and  sometimes  absurdity,  while  in  the  very  act  of  robbing 
them  and  decking  themselves  iii  their  spoils. 

The  student  in  his  literary  progress  will  derive  no  small  inte 
rest  in  discovering,  as  he  inevitably  will,  if  he  goes  deep 
enough,  the  hidden  germs  of  many  of  the  happiest  expressions 
which  adorn  the  pages  of  our  distinguished  writers. 

Almost  every  author  of  any  standing  in  the  ranks  of  litera 
ture  may  be  regarded  as  a  borrower,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree, 
from  the  commonwealth  of  letters.  Even  Shakspeare,  Milton, 
Gray,  are  frequently  indebted  to  their  predecessors  in  "  boke- 
craft." 

"Shakspeare  is  more  purely  original;  but  it  should  not 
be  forgotten,  that  in  his  time,  there  was  much  less  to  borrow, 
and  that  he  too  has  drawn  freely  and  largely  from  the  sources 
that  were  open  to  him,  at  least,  for  his  fable  and  graver  senti 
ment  :  for  his  wit  and  humor,  as  well  as  his  poetry,  are  always 
his  own.  In  our  times,  all  the  higher  walks  of  literature  have 
been  so  long  and  so  often  trodden,  that  it  is  scarcely  possible 
to  keep  out  of  the  footsteps  of  some  of  our  precursors;  and  the 
ancients,  it  is  well  known,  have  stolen  most  of  our  bright 
thoughts,  and  not  only  visibly  beset  all  the  patent  approaches 
to  glory,  but  swarm  in  such  ambushed  multitudes  behind,  that 
when  we  think  we  have  gone  fairly  beyond  their  plagiarisms, 
and  honestly  worked  out  an  original  excellence  of  our  own,  up 

16 


362  SALAD      FOE     THE      SOCIAL. 


starts  some  deep-read  antiquary,  and  makes  it  out,  much  to  his 
own  satisfaction,  that  heaven  knows  how  many  of  these  busy- 
bodies  have  been  beforehand  with  us,  both  in  the  genus  and  the 
species  of  our  invention!"* 

While,  however,  it  is  allowed  that  they  have  freely  used  the 
"shadowed  thoughts  of  more  obscure  authors,  it  must  also 
be  remembered  that  they  have  made  a  noble  restitution  in  pre 
senting  to  their  readers,  not  a  depreciated  capital,  but  a 
thought  refined,  embellished,  and  stamped  with  the  impress  of 
a  brighter  genius. 

Some  are  guilty  of  grand  literary  larceny,  as  many  know  by 
experience,  and  as  Hood  has  so  humorously  described  in  the 
following  lines: 

How  hard,  when  those  who  do  not  wish 

To  lend — that's  lose — their  books, 
Are  snared  by  anglers — folks  that  fish 

With  literary  hooks. 

Who  call  and  take  some  favorite  tome, 

But  never  read  it  through  ; 
They  thus  complete  their  set  at  home, 

By  making  one  of  you. 

I,  of  my  Spenser  quite  bereft, 

Last  winter  sore  was  shaken  : 
Of  Lamb  I've  but  a  quarter  left, 

Nor  could  I  save  my  Bacon. 

They  picked  my  Locke,  to  me  far  more, 

Than  Bramah's  patent  worth  ; 
And  now  my  losses  I  deplore, 

Without  a  Home  on  earth. 

Even  Glover's  Works  I  cannot  put 

My  frozen  hands  upon, 
Though  ever  since  I  lost  my  Foote, 

My  Bunyan  has  been  gone. 

*  Jeffrey. 


THE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  363 


My  life  is  wasting  fast  away — 

I  suffer  from  these  shocks  ; 
And  though  I've  fixed  a  lock  on  Gray, 

There's  gray  upon  my  locks. 

They  still  have  made  me  slight  return  ; 

And  thus  my  grief  divide  ; 
For  oh !  they've  cured  me  of  my  Burns, 

And  eased  my  Akenside. 

But  all  I  think  I  shall  not  say, 

Nor  let  my  anger  burn  ; 
For  as  they  have  not  found  me  Gay, 

They  have  not  left  me  Sterne. 

Hudibrastic  Butler  compares  a  literary  plagiarist  to  an  Ita 
lian  thief,  that  never  robs  but  he  murders,  to  prevent  discovery. 
Another  definition,  somewhat  akin,  describes  the  plagiarist  as 
a  "purloiner,  who  filches  the  fruit  that  others  have  gathered, 
and  then  throws  away  the  basket."* 

"  Plagiary  had  not  its  nativity  with  printing,  but  began 
when  the  paucity  of  books  scarce  wanted  that  invention. "f 
After  all  that  may  be  urged  on  the  score  of  accidental  coinci 
dences  of  thought  and  expression,  it  cannot  be  questioned  that 
there  has  been  perpetrated  a  vast  amount  of  literary  fraud 

Could  we  invoke  the  spirits  of  the  departed,  what  pitiless 
plaints  would  be  preferred  against  the  spoliations  of  many  a 
modern  scribe,  who,  to  avoid  the  trouble  of  thinking  for  him 
self,  has  chosen  the  more  summary  mode  of  allowing  others  to 
do  so  for  him.  Yet,  after  all,  who  should  complain,  when 
such  a  vast  economy  of  time  and  trouble  may  be  achieved  by 
the  labor-saving  process.  A  poem,  indeed,  that  formerly  occu 
pied  in  its  construction  twenty  long  years,  can  thus  be  pro 
duced,  with  scarcely  inferior  success,  in  as  many  minutes  ;  and 
the  Herculean  task  that  wasted  the  midnight  oil  of  a  devoted 
life,  is  now  achieved  in  a  few  brief  hours. 

*  Tin  Trumpet.  t  Brown. 


364  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


To  suppose  that  fewer  instances  of  moral  delinquency  have 
been  perpetrated  iu  the  particular  department  of  letters  than 
in  any  other,  would  be,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  very  uuphilo- 
sophical,  since  the  risk  of  purloining  the  fruits  of  other  men's 
brains  with  impunity,  is  unquestionably  less  than  in  that  of 
most  other  depredations.  If  -the  pilferers  of  the  purse  are  not 
more  amenable  to  justice  than  are  those  who  commit  like 
infringements  upon  the  productions  of  genius,  the  latter  merit 
a  no  less  rigid  requital  of  rebuke.  True,  it  may  be  .urged  in 
extenuation,  that  great  scone  should  be  allowed  in  determining 
the  exact  limits  of  literary  property — since  there  must  neces 
sarily  exist  what  is  termed  the  "  commonwealth  of  literature," — 
yet  we  venture  to  premise  that  the  most  strenuous  advocates 
of  the  plea,  will,  in  the  main,  be  found  to  be  actuated  by 
motives,  no  less  equivocal  in  kind,  than  they  are  specious  iu 
pretence. 

These  literary  pilferers  are  too  often  adroit  and  shrewd  enough 
to  elude  detection. 

A  strong  resemblance  may  occur  between  two  writers,  if  not 
indeed  a  strict  identity  both  of  ideas  and  language,  which  may 
be  purely  accidental ;  but  this  must  be  an  occurrence  exceed 
ingly  rare.  A  bold  or  beautiful  thought  is  sometimes  likely 
so  to  impress  the  imagination,  as  to  exist  in  the  memory  long 
after  its  paternity  is  forgotten,  and  thus  become  ingrafted  into 
the  mind  so  as  to  seem  part  of  itself ;  such  a  case  would  cer 
tainly  admit  of  great  extenuation  in  the  criminal  code  of  liter 
ary  jurisprudence. 

A  writer,  it  is  observed,  may  steal  after  the  manner  of  bees, 
without  wronging  anybody  ;  but  the  theft  of  the  ant,  which 
takes  away  the  whole  grain  of  corn,  is  not  to  be  imitated. 
A  French  writer*  observes,  "  to  take  from  the  ancients,  and 
make  one's  advantage  of  what  they  have  written,  is  like  pirat 
ing  beyond  the  line  ;  but  to  steal  from  one's  contemporaries,  by 
surreptitiously  appropriating  to  one's  self  their  thoughts  and 

*  Vayer. 


THE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  365 


productions,  is  like  picking  people's  pockets  in  the  open  street." 
And  another  extract  we  had  marked,  insists  that,  "  It  is  a 
greater  crime  to  steal  dead  men's  writings,  than  their  clothes." 
Instances  of  petty  larceny  are  undoubtedly  more  numerous 
than  such  as  may  be  styled  cases  of  grand  literary  larceny;  and 
we  have  even  heard  it  advocated  as  a  meritorious  virtue  in  a 
writer,  when  he  shall  abstract  from  a  previous  author  some 
acknowledged  beauty,  either  of  rhetoric  or  thought,  and  afresh 
incorporate  it  as  his  own,  on  the  plea  that  a  gem  may  often  lie 
long  obscured,  and  acquire  redoubled  lustre  by  the  skill  of  the 
artist  in  the  resetting." 

The  doctrines  of  expediency  do  not  always  run  parallel  with 
those  of  equity  and  even-handed  justice;  and  since  we  are  com 
pelled  to  adjudicate  the  question  by  the  moral  standard,  we 
must  allow  no  meaner  motives  to  govern  our  decisions  in  this 
matter.  It  is  no  easy  task,  amidst  the  prolific  outpourings  of 
the  press  of  our  day,  to  attempt  an  expose  of  the  many  "dread 
counterfeits  of  dead  men's  thoughts  "  which  living  plagiarism 
is  continually  recasting  and  sending  forth:  for, 

''This  trade  of  knowledge  is  replete, 
As  others  are,  with  fraud  and  cheat- 
Such  cheats  as  scholars  put  upon 
Other  men's  reason,  and  their  own — 
A  sort  of  drapery,  to  ensconce 
Absurdity  and  ignorance.'' 

The  term  plagiarist  is  derived  from  the  word  plagium,  used 
among  the  Romans  to  designate  a  person  who  abducted  a  free 
man  for  the  purpose  of  selling  him  as  a  slave,  for  which  offence 
the  culprit  was  condemned  by  the  Flavian  law,  ad  plagio,  to  be 
whipped.  In  a  metaphorical  sense,  the  word  implies  theft,  and 
has  been  since  applied  to  such  as  appropriate,  without  due 
acknowledgment,  the  thoughts  and  expressions  of  an  author. 

Plagiarism,  like  homicide,  may  be  divided  into  degrees.  If 
the  purloiner  benefits  the  estate  of  literature  by  his  spoliation, 


3  GO  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


one  is  inclined  to  regard  his  offence  as  venial,  but  when  this  is 
not  the  case,  he  deserves  the  full  penalty  of  his  misdemeanor. 

"  Isot  every  striking  coincidence  in  thought  and  illustration, 
however,  is  to  be  denounced  as  plagiarism.  Some  of  the  most 
admired  productions  of  ancient  and  modern  times  are  only 
splendid  imitations.  Much  of  the  poetry  of  the  last  and  pre 
ceding  century  was  moulded  after  the  ancient  classics,  and 
abounded  in  imitations  of  thought  and  expression.  All  this  is 
considered  lawful.  It  has  been  said  that  "we  are  come  into 
the  world  too  late  to  produce  any  thing  new,  that  nature  and 
life  are  pre-occupied,  and  that  description  and  sentiment  have 
been  long  exhausted."  The  same  authority  allows  that  "an 
inferior  genius  may,  without  any  imputation  of  servility,  pursue 
the  path  of  the  ancients,  provided  he  declines  to  tread  in  their 
footsteps."  The  extent  to  which  it  is  warrantable  to  make  use 
of  the  intellectual  labor  of  others,  how  much  of  their  thoughts 
and  illustrations  may  be  employed  without  endangering  moral 
character  and  reputation,  is  not  very  clearly  settled.  But  with 
one  consent,  to  steal  another's  thoughts  and  language  and  pass 
them  off  as  one's  own,  is  an  act  of  which  no  honorable  man 
would  be  guilty,  and  whoever  perpetrates  it  justly  forfeits  his 
claim  to  confidence  and  respect." 

If  direct  literary  plagiarism  has  been  more  rife  in  modern 
than  in  ancient  times,  yet  we  are  not  to  suppose  that  this  spe 
cies  of  fraud  did  not  exist  even  with  the  classic  writers.  Yida, 
in  his  "  Art  of  Poetry,"  indeed,  conducts  us  to  such  a  conclu 
sion  in  justifying  an  occasional  resemblance  between  two  several 
authors  on  the  same  subject: 

"  Aspice  ut  cxuvias  vctorumque  insignia  nobis 
Aptemus :  verum  accipimus  nunc  clara  repertum. 
Nunc  seriem  atque  auimum  verhorum  quoque  ipsa 
JVec  pitdet  interditm  alteriits  nos  ore  locutos." 

Terence,  who  has  been  accused  of  many  depredations,  says, 
"  nihil  est  dictum  quod  non  sit  dictum  prius." 


THE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  367 


Oue  substantial  reason  why  this  species  of  legerdemain  was 
not  so  much  in  vogue  with  the  early  penmen,  is  to  be  ascribed 
to  the  fact  that  detection  would  almost  inevitably  follow,  from 
the  limited  number  of  manuscripts  then  in  existence  compared 
with  the  almost  countless  issues  since  the  era  of  the  press. 

The  following  exquisite  thought,  contained  in  one  of  the  son 
nets  of  Petrarch, 

'•  Trcfiro  torna:  e  '1  bel  tempo  ramcna  : 
E  i  fiori,  e  '1  herbe  sua  dolce  familigia,-'' 

has  been  more  frequently  incorporated,  or  rather  imitated,  than 
any  gem  in  the  whole  wealth  of  poetry.  Milton,  who,  so  to 
speak,  ransacked  the  three  worlds  for  the  materiel  of  his  sublime 
effusions,  so  closely  resembles  the  Italian  muse,  that  it  is  diffi 
cult  to  reconcile  the  coincidence  upon  any  other  supposition 
than  that  even  he  borrowed.  The  couplet  referred  to  in  allu 
sion  to  his  loss  of  sight,  occurs,  it  will  be  remembered,  in  his 
great  epic, 

"  Seasons  return,  but  not  to  me  return 
Day,  or  the  sweet  approach  of  eve  or  morn." 

He  also  closely  copies  Ariosto,  in  his  Vision  of  Paradise,  and 
Astolpho's  Description  of  the  Moon,  when  he  mounts  the  clouds 
on  the  winged  horse.  Lord  Littleton,  Waller,  Gray,  Savage, 
and  Kirke  White,  discover  traces  of  the  same  thought,  and 
some  invest  it  in  language  remarkably  analogous.  Spenser 
has  also  been  charged  as  a  close  copyist  of  both  Tasso  and 
Ariosto.  A  similar  illustration  might  also  be  given,  showing 
the  double  plagiarism  upon  a  fine  passage  from  Dante,  which 
was  first  rendered  into  our  vernacular  without  acknowledg 
ment  by  Merivale,  and  afterwards  closely  copied  by  Byron. 
But  we  must  narrow  our  limits,  or  we  shall  have  to  invoke 
among  the  culprits  a  host  of  such  other  names,  as  Ford,  Decker, 
Marlow,  and  Shirley,  with  our  several  specifications  against 


3C8  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


them.     We  may  fairly  place  in  our  category  of  plagiarists,  the 
notorious  literary  impostors,  since  they  were  no  less  fraudulent. 

Scaliger,  was  an  impostor,  since  he  had  never  been  at  any  war, 
nor  at  any  court  of  the  Emperor  Maximilian,  as  he  pretended.  He 
passed  the  first  thirty  years  of  his  life  in  one  continued  study. 
Afterwards,  he  threw  off  his  monk's  frock,  and  palmed  on  all 
Europe  the  singular  imposition  of  his  being  a  descendant  of 
the  Princes  of  Verona,  who  bore  the  name  of  Scaligcr. 

One  of  the  boldest  and  most  uncompromising  of  a  very  mis 
chievous  class  of  literary  impostors  was  Annius  of  Yiterbo. 
Annius  published  a  pretended  collection  of  historians  of  the 
remotest  antiquity,  some  of  whoso  names  had  descended  to  us 
in  the  works  of  ancient  writers,  while  their  works  themselves 
had  been  lost.  Afterwards,  he  subjoined  commentaries  to  con 
firm  their  authority,  by  passages  from  well-known  authors. 
These,  at  first,  were  eagerly  accepted  by  the  learned;  the  blun 
ders  of  the  presumed  editor — one  of  which  was  his  mistaking 
the  right  name  of  the  historian  he  forged — were  gradually 
detected,  and  at  length  the  imposture  was  apparent.  The  pre 
tended  originals  were  more  remarkable  for  their  number  than 
their  volume,  for  the  whole  collection  does  not  exceed  one 
hundred  and  seventy-one  pages,  which  lessened  the  difficulty 
of  the  forgery;  while  the  commentaries,  which  were  afterwards 
published,  must  have  been  manufactured  at  the  same  time  as  the 
text.  In  favor  of  Annius,  the  high  rank  he  occupied  at  the 
Roman  court,  his  irreproachable  conduct,  the  declaration  that  he 
had  recovered  some  of  these  fragments  at  Mantua,  and  that  others 
had  come  from  Armenia,  induced  many  to  credit  these  pseudo- 
historians.  A  literary  war  was  soon  kindled.  One  historian 
died  of  grief  for  having  raised  his  elaborate  speculations  on 
these  fabulous  originals;  and  their  credit  was  at  length  so  much 
reduced,  that  Pignoria  and  Maffei  both  announced  to  their 
readers  that  they  had  iiot  referred  in  their  works  to  the  pre 
tended  writers  of  Annius.  Yet,  to  the  present  hour,  these 
presumed  forgeries  are  not  always  given  up.  The  problem 


THE     LARCENIES      OF     LITERATURE.  309 


remains  unsolved;  and  the  silence  of  Annius  in  regard  to  the 
forgery,  as  well  as  what  he  affirmed  when  alive,  leave  us  in 
doubt  as  to  whether  he  really  intended  to  laugh  at  the  world 
by  these  fairy  tales  of  the  giants  of  antiquity.  Sanchoniathon, 
as  preserved  by  Eusebius,  may  be  classed  among  these  ancient 
writings  as  a  forgery,  and  has  been  equally  rejected  and 
defended. 

It  should  not  be  forgotten  that  the  statements  of  Annius 
received  a  supposed  continuation  in  some  pretended  remains  of 
antiquity  which  were  dug  up  in  the  grounds  of  the  Inghirami 
family.  These  remains — which  were  Etruscan — consisted  of 
inscriptions,  and  some  fragments  of  an  ancient  chronicle.  Cur- 
tius  Inghirami  had  no  doubt  of  their  authenticity  and  published 
a  quarto  volume  of  more  than  1000  pages  in  their  support. 

The  imposture  of  Joseph  Vella  will  be  long  remembered. 
Being  at  Palermo  in  1782,  he  accompanied  the  ambassador 
from  Morocco  in  a  visit  which  that  diplomatist  made  to  the 
Abbey  of  St.  Martin,  and  where  he  was  admitted  to  see  a  very 
ancient  Arabic  manuscript.  Being  aware  of  the  desire  which 
existed  to  find  in  the  Arabic  writings  materials  for  the  comple 
tion  of  the  history  of  Sicily,  in  which  there  was  a  gap  of  two 
centuries,  Yella  took  the  hint,  and,  after  the  departure  of  the 
ambassador,  asserted  that  he  had  found  in  the  library  of  the 
Abbey  a  precious  manuscript  containing  the  correspondence 
between  the  Arabian  governors  of  Sicily  and  the  sovereigns  of 
Africa. 

To  confirm  the  authenticity  of  this  pretended  discovery,  and 
to  give  it  additional  importance  in  the  eyes  of  his  protector, 
Airoldi,  archbishop  of  Heraclea,  who  paid  all  the  expenses  of 
his  researches,  Vella  manufactured  a  correspondence  between 
himself  and  the  ambassador,  who  had  returned  to  Morocco,  in 
which  he  made  the  latter  give  an  assurance  that  there  existed  in 
the  library  of  Fez  a  second  and  more  complete  copy  of  the 
manuscript  found  in  the  library  of  St.  Martin;  that  another 
work  in  continuation  of  the  manuscript  had  been  discovered; 

16* 


3  TO  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


and  also  a  series  of  medals,  confirmatory  of  the  history  and 
chronology  of  the  document  in  question. 

The  imposture  had  such  success,  that  the  King  of  Naples,  to 
whom  Vella  presented  his  translation  of  the  supposed  manu 
script,  wished  to  send  him  on  a  mission  to  Morocco  to  make 
further  inquiries.  This  was  as  unfortunate  a  turn  as  the  royal 
favor  could  take;  but,  luckily  for  Vella,  circumstances  occurred 
to  avert  the  disaster. 

The  translation  of  the  Arabic  manuscript  had  been  announced 
in  all  the  journals  of  Europe.  The  first  volume  was  published  in 
1789,  under  the  sanction  of  Airoldi.  The  sixth  volume  appeared 
in  1792,  and  was  to  be  followed  by  two  others.  Vella  was  every 
where  courted,  and  loaded  with  pensions  and  honors.  Airoldi, 
however,  having  caused  a  fac-simile  of  the  original  manuscript 
— which  Telia  had  taken  great  pains  to  alter  and  make 
nearly  illegible — doubts  rose  as  to  its  authenticity;  and  finally, 
after  the  "translation"  had  been  everywhere  read,  everywhere 
celebrated,  and  everywhere  extracted  from,  the  whole  was  found 
to  be  a  deception.  The  original  manuscript  was  nothing  but 
a  history  of  Mahomet  and  his  family,  and  had  no  relation  to  Sicily 
whatever.  Yella  was  induced  to  confess  his  imposture,  but  not 
until  he  had  been  threatened  with  torture. 

Yarillas,  the  French  historian,  enjoyed  for  a  long  period  a 
good  reputation  as  a  veracious  chronicler  of  events,  till  at  length 
the  critics  of  other  countries  exploded  the  secret  of  his  undeserved 
honors.  His  professions  of  sincerity  went  for  little,  when  it 
was  once  discovered  that  his  historic  anecdotes  derived  their 
existence  solely  from  the  wonder-loving  and  inventive  brain  of 
the  writer;  his  affected  citations  of  titles,  letters,  memoirs,  and 
relations,  being  all  imaginary!  Having  perused  most  of  the 
historical  books  of  his  clay,  he  discovered  a  ready  facility  in 
imparting  fictions  as  facts,  while  he  quoted  his  authorities  with 
random  recklessness.  Another  odd  genius  amused  himself, 
while  confined  to  his  room  by  protracted  indisposition,  with 
inflicting  on  the  reading  community  of  his  day  his  "  Voyage 


THE     LARCENIES      OF      LITEEATtJUE.  37l 


Round  the  World,'11  when  his  physical  disability  scarcely  per 
mitted  him  to  describe  the  circuit  of  his  own  dormitory.  His 
name  may  be  recollected  by  some — Gemelli  Carre ri,  a  Neapo 
litan. 

The  next  case  we  shall  refer  to  is  that  of  Psalmanazar,  a  man 
of  considerable  learning  and  singular  ingenuity,  who,  in  his 
time,  acquired  much  no.toriety.  He  was  one  of  the  writers 
employed  in  compiling  a  work  on  Universal  History.  Origin 
ally  a  wandering  advent-urer,  and  while  under  the  pressure  of 
poverty,  having  enlisted  in  the  army,  he  first  attracted  the 
notice  of  Col.  Lauder,  in  the  garrison  of  Sluys,  where  he  artfully 
circulated  a  report  that  he  was  a  native  of  the  island  of  For 
mosa,  from  which  place  he  was  expelled  by  the  hostility  of  the 
Japanese  on  account  of  his  religious  faith,  having  been  pre 
viously  proselytised  to  Christianity  from  Paganism,  by  the 
Jesuits.  The  plausibility  of  his  story  induced  the  colonel  to 
espouse  his  cause,  and  he  subsequently  was  conveyed  to  Eng 
land,  where  he  was  introduced  to  the  Bishop  of  London,  who 
listened  to  his  account  with  pity  and  implicit  faith,  became  his 
patron,  and  generously  contributed  towards  his  support.  His 
artful  contrivance  of  producing  and  speaking  a  language  with 
alphabet  and  grammar  purely  of  his  own  invention,  no  less  than 
his  singular  propensity  for  eating  raw  meat,  roots  and  herbs, 
soon  rendered  him  an  object  of  curious  speculation  and  public 
notoriety.  The  keen-eyed  skepticism  of  some  of  the  more  dis 
cerning,  however,  viewed  his  pretensions  with  suspicion:  and 
yet,  could  he  have  silenced  the  secret  accusations  of  his 
own  conscience,  the  most  sanguine  wishes  of  the  impostor  might 
possibly  yet  have  been  successful.  He  wrote,  in  Latin,  an 
interesting  description  of  the  island  from  which  he  professed  to 
have  been  expatriated  on  account  of  his  newly-espoused  reli 
gion,  which  was  received  by  the  public  with  favor;  a  transla 
tion  was  speedily  effected,  and  read  with  avidity,  which  was 
referred  to  as  authority  by  Buffon,  and  others,  while  his  char 
acteristic  self-complacency  and  adroitness  in  warding  off  every 


372  SALAD   FOR   THE   SOCIAL. 


avenue  to  detection,  seemed  to  have  completely  established  his 
claim  to  public  confidence.  His  powers  of  memory  were  so 
tenaciously  correct,  from  the  exercise  of  habit  in  verbal 
arrangement,  that  on  being  desired  to  translate  a  long  list  of 
English  words  into  the  Formosan  language,  which  were  marked 
down  without  his  knowledge,  his  credit  was  considerably  cor 
roborated  by  his  correctly  affixing  the  same  terms  to  the  same 
words,  on  the  question  being  repeated  three,  six,  and  even 
twelve  months  afterwards.  He  at  length  found  a  warm  advo 
cate  in  the  Bishop  of  Oxford,  who  procured  for  him  apartments 
in  one  of  the  Universities,  for  the  further  prosecution  of  his 
studies.  To  impress  his  new  neighbors  at  this  place  with  the 
idea  of  his  intense  and  indefatigable  application,  it  was  his  cus 
tom  to  keep  lighted  candles  in  his  room  during  the  night,  and 
to  sleep  in  an  easy-chair,  to  prevent  the  impression  that  so 
extraordinary  a  genius  indulged  in  so  unphilosophical  a  relaxa 
tion  as  that  of  reposing  on  a  bed.  His  next  step  was  to  return 
to  London,  and  publish  a  version  of  the  Church  Catechism  in 
his  pretended  vernacular,  which,  having  passed  under  the  close 
scrutiny  and  supervision  of  the  learned,  was  pronounced  a  real 
language,  and  no  counterfeit.  He  had  now  attained  the  acme 
of  his  fame:  but  uo  sooner  had  he  reached  it,  than  the  tide  of 
his  popularity  began  to  ebb;  for  suspicion  had  already  begun 
to  be  excited  by  sundry  contradictions  which  were  betrayed  in 
his  narrative,  and  other  seeming  absurdities,  which  presently 
caused  his  patrons  to  abate  their  ardor,  and  ultimately  to  with 
draw  altogether  their  support  At  length  the  reaction  in  the 
public  mind  became  so  strong,  that  it  speedily  grew  into  the 
most  violent  expressions  of  malignity  and  irritated  resentment 
against  him;  and  as  his  means  of  subsistence  became  conse 
quently  precarious,  he  would  have  become  again  the  victim  of 
abject  distress,  had  it  not  been  for  the  admitted  abilities  he 
possessed,  which  induced  the  booksellers  to  engage  his  services 
upon  the  work  already  referred  to — the  laborious  task  of  com 
piling  a  Universal  History.  His  real  name  and  place  of  birth 


THE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  373 


9 
were  never  revealed — these  he  studiously  concealed  on  account 

of  his  disgrace.  He  was  supposed  to  have  been  from  the  south 
of  France;  and  although  he  never  publicly  avowed  his  fraud, 
yet  he  is  said  to  have  confessed  it  to  confidential  friends,  with 
tears  and  repentance;  and,  but  for  such  acknowledgment  on 
his  part,  his  ingeniously  fabricated  illusions  of  an  unknown 
people  and  their  language,  might  have,  to  this  day,  been  classed 
with  the  mysteries  of  mesmerism,  and  other  subtle  sophisms, 
which  perplex  the  sagacious  and  amuse  the  vulgar.  This  extra 
ordinary  individual  died  in  1763. 

D'Israeli  relates,  among  others,  the  following  curious  instance 
of  literary  forgery,  practised  on  Capt.  Wilford,  by  a  learned 
Hindoo,  who,  to  ingratiate  himself  and  his  studies  with  the  too 
zealous  and  pious  European,  contrived,  among  other  attempts, 
to  give  the  history  of  Xoah  and  his  three  sons,  in  his  "Purana," 
under  the  designation  of  Satyavrata.  The  captain  having  read 
the  passage,  transcribed  it  for  Sir  William  Jones,  who  transla 
ted  it  as  a  curious  extract;  the  whole  was  an  interpolation,  by 
the  dexterous  introduction  of  a  forged  sheet,  discolored  and 
prepared  for  the  purpose  of  deception  ;  and  which,  having 
served  his  design  for  the  moment,  was  afterwards  withdrawn. 
As  books  in  India  are  not  bound,  it  is  not  difficult  to  introduce 
loose  leaves.  To  confirm  his  various  impositions,  this  ingenious 
forger  had  the  patience  to  write  two  voluminous  sections,  in 
which  he  connected  all  the  legends  together,  in  the  style  of  the 
Puranas,  consisting  of  1,200  lines. 

During  the  reign  of  Charles  I.,  numerous  political  forgeries 
were  perpetrated.  The  famous  Eikon  Basilike  has  been  ranked 
among  the  number,  from  the  ambiguous  claim  of  Gauden;  and, 
as  it  appears  from  the  note-book  of  Sir  Kicholas  Hyde,  chief 
justice  during  the  reign  of  that  unfortunate  prince,  Sir  Robert 
Cotton  must  not  be  denied  his  claim  altogether  to  the  honors  of  a 
literary  fiicher,  since  there  is  mention  made  of  a  pardon  he  had 
obtained  from  King  James,  for  embezzling  the  public  records ; 


374  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


and  we  read  even  of  authors  at  the  solemn  hour  of  dissolution 
having  been  the  prey  of  those  whose  moral  obliquity  did  not 
prevent  the  lawless  indulgence  of  the  passion. 

Sir  William  Dugdale  possessed  the  minutes  of  King  James's 
Life,  written  by  Camden,  till  within  a  fortnight  of  his  demise; 
as  also,  Camdeu's  own  Memoirs,  which  he  had  from  Racket, 
the  author  of  the  "  Life  of  Bishop  Williams;"  "  who,"  adds  the 
chronicler  Aubrey,  "did  filch  it  from  Mr.  Camden  as  he  lay  a 
dying!"  It  is  stated  that  the  renowned  Pinelli  Collection  was 
the  product  of  skill  in  an  art  which  lies  more  in  the  hand  than 
the  head;  and  Sir  Robert  Saville,  writing  to  the  founder  of  the 
Bodleian  Library,  appointing  an  interview  for  Sir  Robert  Cot 
ton,  cautions  him  that,  "  if  he  held  any  book  so  dear  that  he 
would  be  loath  to  lose  it,  he  should  not  let  Sir  Thomas  out  of  his 
sight,  but  set  the  book  aside  beforehand." — a  precaution 
adopted  by  a  friend  of  Bishop  Moore.  One  calling  on  him  found 
him  busy  in  hiding  his  best  books,  and  locking  up  as  many  as  he 
could;  on  inquiring  the  reason  of  his  odd  occupation,  the 
bibliopolist  replied,  "  The  Bishop  of  Ely  dines  with  me  to 
day  I" 

We  will  now  subjoin  a  few  instances  of  poetical  imitations, 
or  similarities,  which  we  find  collated  by  D'Israeli.  We  have 
already  alluded  to  the  great  Grecian  Epic  Poet,  as  being  of 
pre-eminent  original  genius;  but  it  has  been  justly  remarked  by 
Scott,  in  his  Introduction  to  the  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish 
Border,  that  it  is  fairly  matter  of  speculation  whether  Homer 
is  entitled  to  be  considered  so  altogether  beyond  the  reach  of 
suspicion  as  an  imitative  poet,  since  it  is  unreasonable  to  sup 
pose  that  the  rich  maturity  of  the  divine  art  in  which  he  became 
so  eminently  distinguished,  could  have  sprung  into  full-grown 
existence  all  at  once — it  being  far  more  probable  that  even  he 
possessed  a  certain  standard  of  design  in  the  ruder  attempts 
of  preceding  writers. 

In  his  beautiful  "  Ode  to  Adversity,"  Gray  thus  apostro 
phises, — 


THE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  375 


"  Thou  tamer  of  the  human  breast, 
Whose  iron  scourge  and  torturing  hour 
The  bad  affright,  afflict  the  best—" 

The  expressions  employed  in  the  foregoing  have  been  deemed 
amenable  to  poetical  criticism  by  Wakefield,  but  probably  he 
has  after  all  been  permitted  to  enjoy  his  opinion  undisturbed, 
as  we  find  Milton  adopts  very  similar  language: 

"  "When  the  scourge 
Inexorably,  and  the  torturing  hour 
Calls  us  to  penance." 

Perhaps  Shakspeare's  prolific  muse  has  been  more  laid  under 
contribution  by  literary  filchers  than  any  other  writer  of  modern 
times;  for  instance  it  is  apparent  that  Pope's  oft-quoted  lines, 

"  Honor  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise, 
Act  well  your  part,  there  all  the  honor  lies," 

were  but  another  rendering  of  the  same  thought,  expressed  not 
less  forcibly,  by  the  great  dramatic  bard — 

"From  lowest  place  when  virtuous  things  proceed, 
The  place  is  dignified  by  the  doers  deed." 

Tope  wrote — "The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man;" 
but  Charron,  said  it  before  him.  Byron,  in  Childe  Harold, 
lias  the  image  of  a  broken  mirror  to  show  how  a  broken 
heart  multiplies  images  of  sorrow.  But  the  same  simile 
is  in  Burton.  Giordano  Bruns  said  that  the  first  people  of  the 
world  should  rather  be  called  the  youngsters  than  the  ancients. 
Lord  Bacon  (a  great  plagiarist)  makes  use  of  the  very  same  idea. 
Gray  sings  beautifully  about  "  full  many  a  gem  of  purest 
ray  serene,"  and  many  a  flower,  concealed  in  the  mine  and  in 
the  sea.  But  Bishop  Hall  first  wrote  the  whole  sentiment  in 
prose.  Addison  speaks  of  the  stars  "  forever  singing  as  they 
shine."  Sir  Thomas  Browne  talks  of  "  the  singing  constella- 


376  SALAD   FOR  THE   SOCIAL. 


tions;"  though  both  have  followed  the  idea  expressed  in  the 
Scripture.  Shelly  speaks  of  Death  and  his  brother  Sleep. 
The  expression  was  Sir  Thomas  Browne's. 

Rogers  has   doubtless   availed  himself  of   Gray's  beautiful 
stanza.,  in  his  Elegy: 

"  The  breezy  call  of  incense-breathing  morn, 

The  swallow  twittering  from  the  straw-built  shed — 
The  cock's  shrill  clarion,  or  the  echoing  horn, 
No  more  shall  rouse  them  from  their  lowly  bed  ;" 

for  in  his  pleasing  little  poem,  "  The  Wish"  he  presents  us 
with  the  following: 

"  The  swallow  oft  beneath  my  thatch 

Shall  twitter  from  her  clay-built  nest ; 
Oft  shall  the  pilgrim  lift  the  latch, 
And  share  my  meal,  a  welcome  guest." 

Goldsmith's  well-known  lines: 

"Man  wants  but  little  here  below, 
Nor  wants  that  little  long," — 

were  evidently  stolen  from  Dr.  Young,  who,  in  his  "  Night 
Thoughts"  says, 

"Man  wants  but  little,  nor  that  little  long." 
That  hackneyed  line  in  Campbell's  "  Pleasures  of  Hope," — 
"  Like  angel  visits,  few  and  far  between  ;'' 

is  borrowed  almost  literally  from  Blair's  "  Grave?'  where  we 

have — 

"  its  visits, 

Like  those  of  angels,  short  aud  far  between  ;'" 

*  Wilmott  contends  that  this  beautiful  conceit  originated  with  Norris  of  Benton,  in  his 
poem,  entitled,  "  TTie  Parting."    The  stanza  reads : 

"  How  fading  are  the  joys  we  dote  upon ; 
Like  apparitions  peen  and  gone; 


THE     LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  377 


Moore  has  been  charged  with  liberal  plagiarisms  upon  Beran- 
ger,  as  well  as  being  a  close  copyist  of  some  of  his  other 
cotemporaries  in  vernacular  verse,  a  detailed  account  of  which 
was  given  in  Blackwood,  some  years  ago,  exhibiting  a  series 
of  specifications  amounting  to  sixty-five !  Even  Tennyson  has, 
in  his  "  Miller's  Daughter"  proved  himself  but  a  paraphrastic 
translator  of  Anacreon,  while  he  also  has  but  marred  the 
expressive  lines  of  Byron, 

"  Who  hath  not  proved  bow  feebly  words  essay 
To  fix  one  spark  of  Beauty's  heavenly  ray  ? 
Who  doth  not  feel — until  his  failing  sight 
Faints  into  dimness  with  his  own  delight — 
His  changing  cheek,  his  sinking  heart  confess 
The  might — the  majesty  of  loveliness  ?': 

Tennyson's  love  song  runs  thus, — 

"  How  many  full-sailed  verse  express, 
How  many  measured  words  adore 

The  full  flowing  harmony 
Of  thy  swan-like  stateliness, 

Eleanore  ? 

The  luxuriant  symmetry 
Of  thy  floating  gracefulness, 

Eleanore  ?" 

Sir  Walter  Scott  was  always  esteemed  an  original  writer, 
but  Lord  Jeffrey,  in  reviewing  his  works,  said  :  "  Even  in  him, 
the  traces  of  imitation  are  obvious  and  abundant." 

But  to  return  again  a  moment  to  Pope  and  some  of  his 
contemporaries  ;  we  ought  to  mention  that  his  editors  charge 
him  with  "  a  palpable  plagiarism  from  Flatman,  an  obscure 


But  those  who  soonest  take  their  flight, 
Are  the  most  exquisite  and  strong, 

Like  angels'  visits  short  and  bnght; 
Mortality's  too  weak  to  bear  them  long." 


378  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 

rhymer  of  Charles  II. 's  time,  in  his  sublime  ode,  '  The  Dying 
Christian  to  his  Soul.' "  Many  of  his  expressions,  as  well  as 
ideas,  in  his  "  Essay  on  Man,"  were  abstracted  from  Milton; 
and  against  his  celebrated  "  Essay  on  Criticism,"  Lady  Wortley 
Montague  has  preferred  a  far  more  serious  accusation:  she  writes, 
"  I  admired  Mr.  Pope's  'Essay  on  Criticism,'  at  first  very  much, 
because  I  had  not  then  read  any  of  the  ancient  critics,  and  did  not 
know  that  it  was  all  stolen."  The  fine  moral  poem  of  the  "Her 
mit,"  by  Parnell,  is  taken  from  Martin  Luther's  tale  of  a  hermit, 
who  murmured  against  the  decrees  of  Divine  Providence.  What 
Sterne  has  not  plagiarized,  we  shall  not  stay  to  notice,  notwith 
standing  he  counterfeited  most  excellent  coin.  He  has  been 
charged  with  pilfering  from  Burton,  Rabelais,  Montaigne,  Bayle, 
and  others  ;  his  seventh  posthumous  sermon  is  in  a  great  part 
cribbed,  word  for  word,  from  a  previous  divine,  yclept  Leighten- 
house,  1697. 

Another  instance  of  close  resemblance  occurs  in  Gray's  cele 
brated  "  Elegy  ;"  so  remarkable  is  the  analogy,  that  one  is  con 
strained  to  suspect  it  to  be  a  free  rendering  from  Lucretius. 

"  For  him  no  more  the  blazing  hearth  shall  burn. 

Or  busy  house-wife  ply  her  evening  care, 
No  children  run  to  lisp  their  sire's  return, 
Or  climb  his  knees  the  envious  kiss  to  share." 

There  is  a  slight  parallel  between  the  foregoing  and  the 
beautiful  bursts  of  pathos  in  Thomson,  which  we  subjoin  ;  but 
even  these  lines  are  said  to  be  an  imitation  of  a  passage  in  the 
"  Iliad :" 

'•  In  vain  for  him  th'  officious  wife  prepares 
The  fire  fair  blazing,  and  the  vestment  warm  : 
In  vain  his  little  children,  peeping  out 
Into  the  mingling  storm,  demand  their  sire, 
With  tears  of  artless  innocence — alas ! 
Nor  wife,  nor  children  more  shall  he  behold, 
Nor  friend?,  nor  sacred  home." 


THE     LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  379 


The  plagiarism  of  Campbell  from  an  elder  poet,  Vaughan,  is 
worthy  of  being  cited  : 

"  When  o'er  the  green,  undeluged  earth, 
Heaven's  covenant  thou  didst  shine  ; 
How  came  the  world's  gray  fathers  forth, 
To  watch  thy  sacred  sign.-'  * 

"  Still  young  and  fine  !  but  what  is  still  in  view 
We  slight  as  old  and  soiled,  though  fresh  and  new  : 
How  bright  wert  thou,  when  Shem's  admiring  eye 
Thy  burning,  flaming  arch  did  first  descry ; 
When  Zerah,  Xahor,  Haram,  Abram,  Lot, 
The  youthful  world's  gray  fathers,  in  one  knot, 
Did,  with  inteutive  looks  watch  every  hour 
For  thy  new  light,  and  trembled  at  each  shower  !;'  f 

The  occasional  conceits  in  this  black-letter  bard,  coupled 
with  his  earnest  straight-forwardness  and  sincerity,  compensate 
us  for  the  absence  of  the  rich  embellishment  of  Campbell. 

We  cannot  forbear  quoting  from  the  "  English  Bards  and 
Scotch  Reviewers,"  Byron's  well-known  lines  on  the  death  of 
Kirke  White;  because  the  most  beauciful  figure  in  them  seems 
evidently  copied  from  Waller.  We  commence  with  Byron: 

"  Unhappy  White !  while  life  was  in  its  spring, 
And  thy  young  muse  just  waved  her  joyous  wing, 
The  spoiler  came,  and  all  thy  promise  fair, 
Has  sought  the  grave  to  sleep  for  ever  there. 
Oh,  what  a  noble  heart  was  here  undone, 
"When  science'  self  destroyed  her  favorite  son ! 
Yes,  she  too  much  indulged  thy  fond  pursuit : 
She  sowed  the  seeds,  but  Death  has  reaped  the  fruit. 
'T  was  thine  own  genius  gave  the  fatal  blow, 
And  helped  to  plant  the  wound  that  laid  thee  low! 
So  the  struck  eagle,  stretched  upon  the  plain. 
No  more  through  rolling  clouds  to  soar  again, 
Viewed  his  own  feather  on  the  fatal  dart, 
And  winged  the  shaft  that  quivered  in  his  heart : 

*  Campbell.  t  Vaughan. 


380  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


Keen  were  his  pangs,  but  keener  far  to  feel, 
He  nursed  the  pinion  which  impelled  the  steel, 
While  the  same  plumage  that  had  wanned  his  nest, 
Drank  the  last  life-drop  of  his  bleeding  breast  !" 

Waller's  stanza  which  expresses  a  similar  sentiment,  is  as 
follows : 

That  eagle's  fate  and  mine  are  one, 

Which  on  the  shaft  that  made  him  die 
Espied  a  feather  of  his  own 

Wherewith  he'd  wont  to  soar  so  high. 

In  Thomas  Moore's  poetic  epistle,  "  Corruption"  the  same 
figure  also  occurs: 

"Like  a  young  eagle,  who  has  lent  his  plume 
To  fledge  the  shaft  by  which  he  meets  his  doom, 
See  their  own  feathers  plucked,  to  wing  the  dart, 
Winch  rank  corruption  destines  for  their  heart. 

Speaking  of  Lord  Byron,  we  might  here  quote  a  paragraph 
from  Goethe,  which  may  be  new  to  some: 

"  The  tragedy  of  Manfred,  is  a  most  singular  performance,  and  one 
which  concerns  me  nearly.  This  wonderful  and  ingenious  poet  has  taken 
possession  of  my  Faust,  and  hypochondriacally  drawn  from  it  the  most 
singular  nutriment.  He  has  employed  the  means  in  it  which  suits  his 
object,  in  a  particular  manner,  so  that  no  one  thing  remains  the  same  ; 
and  on  this  account,  I  cannot  sufficiently  admire  his  ability.  The  re-cast 
is  so  peculiar,  that  a  highly  interesting  lecture  might  be  given  on  its 
resemblance,  and  want  of  resemblance,  to  its  model — though  I  cannot 
deny,  that  the  gloomy  fervor  of  a  rich  and  endless  despair  becomes  at 
last  wearisome  to  us.  However,  the  displeasure  we  feel  is  always  con 
nected  with  admiration  and  esteem.  The  very  quintessence  of  the  sen 
timents  and  passions,  which  assist  in  constituting  the  most  singular  talents 
for  self-commentary  ever  known,  is  contained  in  this  tragedy/' 

Touching  poetic  coincidences,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  notice 
the  somewhat  remarkable  fact,  and  one,  perhaps,  not  very 
generally  known,  that  there  have  been  three  poets  of  the 


THE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  381 


respective  names  ot  Walter  Scott,  Samuel  Rogers  and  James 
Grahame,  before  the  excellent  authors  of  "  Marmion,"  "  The 
Pleasures  of  Memory ,"  and  "  The  Sabbath."  Specimens  of  their 
published  works  may  be  found  in  Mr.  Southey's  "  Later  English 
Poets  ;"  they  all  three  existed  in  the  latter  part  of  the  seven 
teenth  century. 

The  beautiful  stanzas  entitled,  The  Soul's  Errand,  "  Go,  soul, 
the  body's  guest,"  etc.,  often  attributed  to  Sir  Walter  Raleigh, 
were  really  written  by  Sylvester.  Barnfield  is  now  generally 
believed  to  be  the  author  of  the  following  song,  sometimes  as 
cribed  to  Shakespeare. 

"As  it  fell  upon  a  day, 
In  the  merry  month  of  May, 
Sitting  in  a  pleasant  shade, 
Which  a  grove  of  myrtles  made." 

"It  may  be  seen  in  the  collected  poems  of  Richard  Barnfield, 
1598.  The  same  idea  we  find  repeated  by  diiferent  writers, 
touching  the  hopelessness  of  overruling  a  "  strong-minded 
woman."  An  old  dramatist,  Sir  Samuel  Tuke  (1613)  says — 

'•  He  is  a  fool  who  thinks  by  force  or  skill, 
To  turn  the  current  of  a  woman's  will." 

And  in  Aaron  Hill's  "Epilogue  to  Zara,"  bearing  date  about 
1750,  we  find  the  following: 

"  First,  then,  a  woman  will,  or  won't,  depend  on't ; 
If  she  will  do't,  she  will;  and  there's  an  end  on't ; 
But,  if  she  won't,  since  safe  and  sound  your  trust  is, 
Fear  is  affront ;  and  jealousy  injustice."  * 

*0n  a  pillar  erected  on  the  Mount  in  the  Dane  John  Field,  Canterbury,  are  engraved 
the  following  lines : — 

"  Where  is  the  man  who  has  the  power  and  skill 
To  stem  the  torrent  of  a  woman's  will? 
For  if  she  will,  she  will,  you  may  depend  on't ; 
And  if  she  won't,  she  won't ;  so  there's  an  end  on't." 


382  SALAD   FOR  THE   SOCIAL. 


Young,  in  his  "  Night  Thoughts'1  has  the  well-known  line — 
•'Be  wise  to-day  ;  'tis  madness  to  defer." 

And  Congreve,  in  his  Letter  to   Colham,  introduces  a  similar 
thought: 

"  Defer  not  till  to-morrow  to  be  wise, 
To-morrow's  sun  to  thee  may  never  rise." 

Drydeu  says — 

"For  truth  has  such  a  face  and  such  a  mien, 
As  to  be  loved  needs  only  to  be  seen." 

And  we  have  from  Pope — 

"Vice  is  a  monster,  of  so  frightful  mien, 
As  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen,"  &c. 

In  Measure  for  Measure,  occurs  the  song,  which  may  be  also 
found  verbatim  in  Bcamont  and  Fletcher,  commencing, — 

"  Take,  0 !  take  those  lips  away, 

That  so  sweetly  were  forsworn  ; 
And  those  eyes,  the  break  of  day, 
Lights  that  do  mislead  the  morn. 
But  my  kisses  bring  again, 
Seals  of  love,  but  sealed  in  vain." 

The  well-known  lines, 

"  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is, 

Such  perfect  joy  therein  I  find, 
As  far  exceeds  all  earthly  bliss, 
That  God  and  nature  hath  assigned," 

seem  to  have  had  their  origin  in  the  couplet  of  Southwell, 

"  My  mind  to  me  an  empire  is, 
While  grace  affordeth  health." 


THE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  383 


Cowper's  line, 

''  God  made  the  country,  and  man  made  the  town," 
has  its  parallel  (it  originated  with  Varro)  in  that  of  Cowley, 
"  God  the  first  garden  made,  and  the  first  city,  Cain." 

Good  old  Fuller  thus  beautifully  depicts  the  last  moments  of 
a  dying  saint: 

"  Drawing  near  her  death,  she  sent  most  pious  thoughts  as 
harbingers  to  heaven;  and  her  soul  saw  a  glimpse  of  happiness 
through  the  chinks  of  her  sickness-broken  body;"  and  Waller 
versifies  the  same  idea: 

"  The  soul's  dark  cottage,  battered  and  decayed, 
Lets  in  new  light  through  chinks  that  time  has  made. 
Stronger  by  weakness,  wiser  men  become, 
As  they  draw  near  to  their  eternal  home." 

Addison  and  Pope  may  be  said  to  "  divide  the  honors,"  as  to 
the  authorship  of  the  line — 

"  Rides  on  the  whirlwind,  and  directs  the  storm," 

since  it  appears  in  the  writings  of  both. 

A  similar  instance  is  also  observable  with  respect  to  the  lines 
of  Pope  and  Milton: 

"Laugh  where  we  must,  be  candid  where  we  can, 
But  vindicate  the  ways  of  God  to  man." 

for  in  Paradise  Lost,  we   have   the  same  idea  in  almost  the 
identical  phraseology: 

"  And  justify  the  ways  of  God  to  man." 
Even  Wordsworth  seems  to  have  copied;  he  says, 
"  The  child  is  father  of  the  man," 


384  8ALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


and  Milton  wrote, 

"  The  childhood  shows  the  mail, 
As  morning  shows  the  day." 

"Drydeu,"  says  "Warburton,  "borrowed  for  want  of  leisure; 
Pope  for  want  of  genius;  Milton  from  pride,  and  Addison 
through  modesty.  The  same  critic  has  collated  some  half-dozen 
remarkable  parallels  in  Addisou's  "  Cato"  with  Tully  and 
Lucan. 

Lauder,  the  author  of  two  ambitious  but  unsuccessful  tomes, 
entitled  "Poetarum  Scotorum  Musce  Sacra,"  has  assailed  the 
Literary  reputation  of  the  "  blind  old  master  of  English  song," 
in  a  volume  which  was  afterwards  roughly  handled  by  Drs. 
Johnson  and  Beutley;  being  conscious  it  was  no  slight  act 
of  temerity  in  him  to  attempt  impugning  the  integrity  of 
such  a  name,  he  commences  his  work  in  the  following  apologetic 
strain,  assuring  the  reader  that  "he  had  no  intention  to  dero 
gate  from  the  merits  of  the  author  of  '  Paradise  Lost/  to  whom 
great  praise  is  due  for  so  beautiful  a  structure;  even  if  it  should 
be  proved  that  a  good  part  of  his  materials  icere  borrowed  from 
his  neighbors  •  but  it  cannot  be  denied  that  he  is  considerably 
indebted  to  the  following  productions:  '  Sarcotidos,'  a  Latin 
Drama,  written  by  Grotius;  and,  lastly,  to  a  volume  of  poems 
published  in  the  same  language  by  Andrew  Ramsay."  A 
strong  resemblance,  it  is  affirmed,  is  discernible,  both  in 
structure  and  thought,  in  the  parallels  he  has  adduced;  and 
yet  we  are  reluctant  to  endorse  the  opinion  of  this  literary 
censor,  preferring .  rather  to  adopt  the  rejoinder  of  onp  of  the 
poet's  defenders,  "admitting  that  Milton  took  many  hints  from 
these  writers,  yet  the  great  whole  of  a  magnificent  epic,  the 
connection  of  reference  of  part  to  part,  are  undeniably  his  own." 

One  of  the  most  deeply  interesting  biographies  we  ever  read 
was  that  of  the  poet,  Chatterton.  His  brief  and  hapless  career 
was  crowded  with  touching  incidents. 

Unquestionably,  the  most  brilliant,  successful,  and  innocent 


THE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  385 


literary  forgeries  ever  committed  were  those  produced  in  Eng 
land  about  seventy  years  ago,  by  Thomas  Chatterton.  Chat- 
terton  was  the  posthumous  son  of  the  sexton  of  St.  Mary  Redcliffe 
church  at  Bristol,  and  was  himself  a  charity-school  boy.  He  was  a 
singular  youth — shy,  abstracted,  and,  as  some  thought,  stupid. 
When  about  sixteen  years  of  age,  he  professed  to  have  found  in 
some  old  chests  belonging  to  the  church,  a  quantity  of  poems 
written  by  one  Rowley,  a  priest  in  the  fifteenth  century.  Por 
tions  of  these  manuscripts  he  exhibited,  which  bore  all  the 
marks  of  age,  and  by  those  to  whom  they  were  first  shown 
were  considered  to  be  genuine.  The  poetry  of  the  supposed 
work  was  of  the  highest  order,  and  among  the  literati  of  England 
the  utmost  excitement  prevailed.  Chatterton's  mother  being- 
poor,  the  boy  on  leaving  school  became  clerk  in  a  lawyer's  office. 
This  fellow,  Lambert,  shamefully  ill-used  Chatterton,  and  at  last 
turned  him  out  doors  because  he  had  found  on  his  desk  a  paper 
entitled  his  "  will,"  in  which  the  boy  expressed  his  intention  to 
destroy  himself. 

The  literary  forgeries  of  Chattertou  were  induced  by  the 
cold  neglect  with  which  he  found  his  own  original  effusions 
were  received;  and  yet  Byron,  Shelley,  Coleridge,  Southey, 
Wordsworth,  and  other  great  poets  have  landed  Chatterton  as 
a  precocious  and  remarkable  genius.  Keats  dedicated  his 
"Endymion"  to  his  memory;  and  Wordsworth  styled  him 

"  The  marvellous  boy, 
The  sleepless  soul  that  perished  in  its  pride/'' 

The  next  instance  of  grand  literary  larceny  that  occurs  to  us 
is  that  of  Samuel  Ireland,  of  Shakspearian  notoriety.  It  is 
doubtful  if  such  devout  consternation  and  enthusiastic  admira 
tion  were  ever  enkindled  among  the  cognoscenti  and  dilettanti 
of  the  civilized  world,  as  were  caused  by  his  fabrications. 

This  notorious  literary  impostor  was  early  distinguished  for 
his  enthusiastic  devotion  to  Shakspcare;  the  slightest  scrap  of 
ancient  writing  referring  to  that  great  name,  was,  to  Samuel 


386  SALAD      FOR     THE     SOCIAL. 


Ireland,  a  treasure  of  priceless  worth.  What  effect  upon  his 
nerves  the  possession  of  an  autograph  of  the  immortal  bard 
produced,  may  be  easily  imagined  by  the  reader — he  became 
intoxicated  with  delight.  The  precious  relic  which  purported 
to  be  a  mortgage-deed  betwixt  Shakspeare  and  one  Michael 
Frazer,  was  viewed  with  such  rapturous  veneration  by  all  the 
antiquaries  of  the  day,  "  that  it  took  several  days,"  continues 
the  narrator,  "  before  any  one  became  sufficiently  composed 
and  calm  to  inquire  whence  the  document  emanated."  Young 
Ireland  (the  son  of  the  afore-named),  the  discoverer,  accounted 
for  its  appearance  by  alleging  that  he  found  it  among  some 
ancient  records  in  the  possession  of  a  gentleman  of  fortune, 
but  whose  name  he  had  been  charged  to  preserve  an  inviolable 
secret.  Byng,  and  other  literary  amateurs  conjectured  that 
a  rich  mine  of  Shakspearian  wealth  had  been  struck,  and  they 
became  ravenously  impatient  for  its  further  exploration.  With 
such  powerful  stimulus  these  sanguine  expectations  soon  became 
realized,  and  presently  the  following  documents  greeted  the 
delighted  vision  of  the  learned  : — Shakspeare's  "Profession  of 
Faith,"  a  "  Letter  to  Lord  Southampton,''  a  "Letter  to  Anne 
Hatharway,"  some  "Poetic  Epistles  to  the  same,"  and  a  "Let 
ter  to  Queen  Elizabeth,"  and  some  "  Original  plays."  Even 
that  sage  veteran,  Dr.  Parr,  proved  a  ready  victim  to  the  delu 
sion;  also  the  Earl  of  Lauderdale,  Yalpy,  Boswell,  and  Pin- 
kerton,  the  historian,  were  among  the  credulous;  and  yet  these 
papers,  instead  of  being  two  centuries  old,  ultimately  proved 
to  be  but  the  fabrication  of  a  lad  of  eighteen,  a  few  hours 
before.  In  his  "  Confessions,"  young  Ireland  admitted,  in 
extenuation  of  his  fraud,  that  he  was  incited  to  the  act  from 
the  pleasure  it  afforded  his  father.  The  penalty  of  his  impos 
ture  was,  however,  anything  but  enviable,  for  the  name  of  Ire 
land  soon  became  synonymous  with  obloquy,  and  a  life  of 
voluntary  exile  paid  the  forfeit  of  his  folly.  We  ought  to 
add,  that  the  merit  of  detection  belonged  to  John  Kemble, 
whose  critical  acumen  respecting  the  writings  and  genius  of 


THE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  387 


the  great  dramatic  poet,  proved  in  this  instance  more  than  a 
match  against  the  sagacious  credulity  of  the  greatest  men  of 
letters  of  his  time. 

There  was  a  curious  work  published  in  1688,  entitled 
"  Momus  Triumphans,"  devoted  to  the  exposure  of  the  plagia 
ries  of  the  English  stage  :  but  with  such  cases  of  petit  larceny 
we  shall  not  meddle,  having  already  discovered  more  instances 
of  fraud,  on  a  grander  scale,  than  the  reader  will  care  to  scru 
tinize. 

It  is  related  of  the  French  poet,  Despartes,  on  being  accused 
of  having  availed  himself  very  liberally  of  some  passages  of  the 
Italian  poets  ;  so  far  from  denying  the  charge,  when  a  book 
appeared  upou  the  subject,  entitled  "Rencontre  des  Muses  de 
France  et  d'ltalie,'"  He  frankly  replied,  "  had  I  known  the 
author's  design,  I  could  have  furnished  him  with  a  great  many 
more  instances  than  he  has  collected  !" 

Here  we  have  a  literary  sinner  who  affects  no  disguise  of 
freebooting.  He  seems  to  suffer  as  little  compunction  for  his 
detected  crime,  as  if  a  certain  canon  of  the  Decalogue  never 
had  existence.  Psalrnanazar's  ingenious  fraud,  or  the  daring 
artifice  of  Ireland,  scarcely  exceed  in  impudent  audacity  the 
case  of  one,  Pinkerton,  a  voluminous  writer,  who  published, 
in  1786,  two  volumes,  "  Ancient  Scottish  Poems,  never  before  in 
print,  but  now  published  from  the  MS.  collection  of  Sir  R.  Maitland, 
&c.  Pinkerton  maintained  that  he  had  found  the  manuscripts 
in  the  Pepysian  Library  at  Cambridge,  and  among  his 
Correspondence,  it  is  stated,  he  alludes  to  the  circumstance  with 
admirable  coolness.  We  may  mention  one  other  variety,  how 
ever,  that  of  authors  selling  their  names  to  be  prefixed  to 
works  which  they  never  even  read  ;  take  the  following  case  : 
Sir  John  Hill,  as  we  learn  by  a  recent  writer,  "  once  contracted 
to  translate  Swammerdam's  work  on  insects,  for  fifty  guineas;" 
after  the  agreement  with  the  bookseller  he  recollected  that  he 
did  not  understand  a  single  word  of  the  Dutch  language,  and 
as  no  French  edition  then  existed,  he  sought  another  to  assume 


388  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


his  task,  and  succeeded  in  effecting  an  agreement,  with  a 
translator,  for  just  one-half  the  sum  he  was  himself  to  receive  ; 
strange  to  add,  however,  the  second  translator  was  found  to 
be  in  precisely  the  same  situation  as  his  employer.  The  con 
sequence  was,  that  a  third  was  finally  engaged  to  accomplish 
the  work,  and,  to  the  disgrace  of  literature,  at  the  meagre 
remuneration  of  twelve  guineas ;  so  that  while  the  actual  transla 
tor,  the  modest  drudge,  whose  name  never  appeared  to  the 
•world,  broke,  in  patience,  his  daily  bread,  our  pseudo-author 
was  allowed  to  feast  upon  the  spoils,  as  a  reward  for  his  impos 
ture. 

Mark  Akenside  first  published  his  "  Pleasures  of  Imagina 
tion  "  anonymously  ;  and  very  soon  after,  a  pretender  of  the 
name  of  Rolt,  actually  had  the  impudence  to  go  over  to  Dull  in 
and  publish  an  edition  of  that  fine  poem  with  his  own  name 
attached  to  it  as  the  author.  Poor  Akenside  at  length  heard  of 
the  cheat,  and  published  a  genuine  edition,  exposing  the 
fraud.  Dr.  Campbell,  of  St.  Andrews,  Scotland,  wrote  "  An 
Inquiry  into  the  Original  of  Moral  Virtue,"  the  manuscript  of 
which  he  consigned  to  his  friend  Mr.  Innes,  who  not  only  exceeded 
his  commission  by  publishing  the  work  under  his  own  name,  as 
the  author,  but  before  the  imposition  was  detected,  acquired 
considerable  fame  and  even  promotion  for  his  (supposed)  great 
merit !  Dr.  Blair's  early  poem,  "The  Resurrection,"  while  in 
manuscript,  having  been  copied  at  college  for  the  use  of  his 
private  friends,  in  a  short  time  after  appeared  in  a  pompous 
folio,  to  the  utter  amazement  of  its  despoiled  author,  with  the 
name  of  Dr.  Douglas  appended  to  its  title,  and  arrogantly  dedica 
ted  to  the  Princess  Dowager  of  Wales!  The  "  Man  of  Feeling," 
by  Mackenzie,  was  also  originally  published  under  the  assumed 
name  of  Eccles,  who  borrowed  the  manuscript  on  pretence  of 
perusing  it.  This  rogue  succeeded  to  such  an  extent  in  his  impos 
ture,  that  the  real  author  found  at  first  great  trouble  in  establishing 
his  just  claim  to  its  authorship  before  the  world.  The  true  author 
ship  of ' '  Gil  Bias"  has  not  only  been  made  the  matter  of  speculative 


THE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  389 


inquiry,  but  a  recent  writer  in  Blackwood  has  even  ventured 
to  dispute  the  claim  of  Le  Sage  to  its  paternity,  asserting 
strong  grounds  for  the  belief  of  its  having  been  the  production 
of  a  Spanish  scribe,  Don  Antonio  de  Solis  ! 

Dr.  Johnson  says,  "It  is  not  difficult  to  conceive  of  such 
kind  of  fraud  to  be  practised  with  successful  effrontery  ;  the 
filiation  of  a  literary  performance  being  difficult  of  proof,  there 
being  seldom  any  witness  at  the  birth."  The  writer  from 
whom  we  quote  did  not  himself  incur  any  great  risk  in  this 
matter,  however,  as  his  progeny  evince  a  strongly-marked 
identity  ;  and 

"  Shakspeare's  magic  could  not  copied  be, 
Within  that  charmed  circle  none  durst  walk  but  he.:' 

A  somewhat  similar  theft,  although  on  a  grander  scale,  was 
perpetrated  by  the  notorious  Sir  Everard  Home,  who,  it  will 
be  remembered,  under  pretext  of  making  a  catalogue  of  them, 
procured  from  the  Royal  College  of  Surgeons  the  loan  of 
the  life-labor  manuscripts  of  Doctor  Hunter,  forming  ten 
large  folio  volumes.  After  much  patient  waiting  and  many 
bootless  inquiries  for  said  catalogue,  it  was  at  length  con 
fessed  by  this  literary  corsair,  that  he  had  'burnt  a  large 
portion  of  them,  alleging  that  he  did  so  in  accordance 
with  the  expressed  wish  of  Dr.  Hunter.  The  grief  and  con 
sternation  that  ensued  upon  such  an  unpardonable  proceeding, 
was  in  uo  degree  lessened  by  the  discovery,  and  subsequent 
confession  on  the  part  of  Sir  Everard,  that  he  previously  stole 
the  valuable  materials  of  Hunter,  from  which  he  compiled  his 
boasted  Essays  delivered  before  the  Royal  Society.  These  lectures 
being  produced  with  such  astonishing  rapidity  and  frequency, 
very  naturally  excited  suspicion,  and  ultimately  led  to  the 
betrayal  of  the  fraud.  The  name  of  John  Hunter  reminds 
us  of  another  case  of  plagiarism  :  about  four  years  ago  there 
was  a  paper  in  the  British  and  Foreign  Medical  Review  pur 
porting  to  be  a  review  of  the  character  and  writings  of  John 


390  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


Hunter,  ascribed  to  the  pen  of  Dr.  W.  B.  Carpenter,  a  dis 
tinguished  member  of  the  English  faculty,  but  which  in  reality 
was  a  transfer  of  "  A  Review  of  the  Genius  and  Writings  of 
Milton,"  by  William  Ellery  Channing,  each  being  substantially 
the  same  throughout — and  for  the  most  part  verbatim  et 
literatim — the  principal  change  consisting  in  that  of  the  proper 
name.  What  shall  we  say  of  the  case  of  the  metaphysician, 
Coleridge,  delivering  in  London  a  course  of  lectures  on  the  Greek 
drama,  who  resorted  to  the  easy  expedient  of  translating  the 
published  lectures  of  Schlegel  on  the  same  subject,  which  had 
been  delivered  some  few  years  preceding. 

In  1823  a  visit  to  England  was  made  by  a  singular  indi 
vidual  named  Hunter,  an  American,  the  author  of  a  produc 
tion — a  pure  fabrication — entitled  "  Memoirs  of  a  Captivity 
among  the  Indians  of  North  America,  from  childhood  to  the 
age  of  nineteen,  with  anecdotes  descriptive  of  their  manners 
and  customs,"  &c.  The  work  contains  a  highly  romantic  and 
interesting  narrative  of  his  alleged  wanderings  among  various 
tribes  of  the  Red-men,  which  at  first  not  only  was  regarded  as 
a  faithful  picture  of  Indian  life,  but  procured  for  him  an  intro 
duction  into  the  best  literary  society,  and  enlisted  for  him  the 
sympathies  of  the  philanthropic,  who  eagerly  sought  to  aid  him 
in  his  professed  object  of  aiming  to  bring  about  their  civiliza 
tion. 

The  case  of  Madame  de  Genlis  is  singular.  In  her  latter 
years,  this  lady,  not  content  with  wholesale  plagiarisms  from 
Rousseau  and  Yoltaire,  took  to  filching  from  herself,  and,  under 
a  different  title,  would  publish  the  same  work  twice,  or  thrice. 
She  engaged  to  compile  for  a  bookseller  a  Manuel  Encydopedique 
de.  VEnfance.  The  manuscript  was  put  into  his  hands  ;  the 
stipulated  price  of  four  hundred  francs  was  paid;  and  the  work 
was  about  to  be  sent  to  the  press,  when  the  publisher  discovered 
that  it  was  nothing  but  an  exact  copy  of  a  book  on  the  same 
subject  which  Madame  de  Geulis  had  published  ten  years  ago. 
It  has  been  observed  that  whenever  any  age  has  been  distinguished 


THE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  391 


by  a  great  number  of  excellent  authors,  they  hare  cultivated  dif 
ferent  departments  of  literature,  prose  or  verse,  or  have  adopted 
different  styles  of  expression.  This  was  the  case  in  the  Augus 
tan  age,  as  appears  from  the  works  of  Yirgil,  Horace,  Ovid> 
etc.  This  is  also  evident  in  later  times;  for  in  the  writings  of 
Shakespeare,  Swift,  Pope,  Gray,  Bolingbroke,  Addisou,  Scott, 
Moore,  Milton,  and  others,  there  are  striking  idiosyncrasies,  and 
peculiarities  of  style. 

These  men  were  not,  like  most  of  their  literary  contemporaries, 
servile  imitators,  but  original  thinkers,  and  consequently,  original 
writers. 

Coleridge  said,  that  plagiarists  are  always  suspicious  of  being 
stolen  from  :  if  this  is  so,  the  case  of  Madame  de  Genlis  is 
rather  anomalous.  We  will  close  our  chapter  with  a  few  more 
instances  of  analogy  in  sentiment  and  verse.  For  example  : 
Spenser  compares  the  falling  of  Autumn  foliage  with  the  death 
of  man. 

"  As  withered  leaves  drop  from  their  dried  stocks, 
When  the  wroth  western  wind  doth  reave  their  locks.'' 

The  same  idea  is  employed  by  Shelley, 

"  Thou  wild  west  wind  !  thou  breath  of  autumn's  being, 
Before  whose  unseen  presence  the  leaves  dead 
Are  driven,  like  ghosts  from  an  enchanter  fleeing." 

Milton  embodies  the  same  figure  ;  and  Byron  also,  in  the 
well-remembered  stanza: 

"  Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest,  when  summer  is  green. 
That  host  with  its  banners  at  sunset  was  seen  ; 
Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest,  when  autumn  hath  blown. 
That  host  on  the  morrow  lay  withered  and  strewn." 

Again,  in  Pope  : 

"  Like  leaves  on  the  trees,  the  race  of  man  is  found : 
They  fall  successive,  and  successive  rise." 


392  SALAD      FOR      THE      SOCIAL. 


The  following  is  a  coincidence  between  Tennyson  and  Shak- 
speare  : 

'•  A  dream 

Dreamed  by  a  happy  man,  while  the  dark  east 
Ts  slowly  brightening  to  his  bridal  morn." 

Tennyson. 

"  Then  music  is 


As  those  dulcet  sounds  in  break  of  day, 

That  creep  into  the  dreaming  bridegroom's  ear, 

And  summon  him  to  marriage." 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

In  the  very  fine  stanza  on  a  skull — (Childe  Harold]  Byron 
apostrophizes  it  as, 

"  The  dome  of  thought  and  palace  of  the  soul." 

Waller  in  a  short  poem  on  tea,  the  effect  of   which   he 
describes,  calls  the  head  the 

"  Palace  of  the  soul." 

Can  we  not  trace  Mason's  "  Gadding  Ivy"  to  Milton's  "  Gad 
ding  Vine  ?"  In  the  dramatic  poem  of  "  Elfrida,"  by  the  for 
mer,  there  is 

"  The  ivy,  gadding  from  th'  untwisted  stem, 
Curtains  each  verdant  side," 

And  in  Milton's  "  Lycidas  "  we  read 

"  desert  caves, 
With  wild  thyme,  and  the  gadding  vine  o'ergrown." 

A  coincidence  of  imagery  is  apparent  in  the  following  : 

"  But  let  my  due  feet  never  fail, 
To  walk  the  studious  cloister's  pale, 
There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow, 
To  the  full  voic'd  choir  below, 
In  service  high,  and  anthems  clear, 


THE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  393 


As  may  with  sweetness  through  mine  ear 
Dissolve  me  into  ecstacics." 

II  Penseroso. 

The  other  passage  in  "  St.  Agnes'  Eve,"  where  the  beads 
man  returneth  : 

"  Mong  the  chapel  aisle  by  slow  degrees, 


Northward  he  turneth  through  a  little  door, 

And  scarce  three  steps,  ere  Music's  golden  tongue 

flattered  to  tears  this  aged  man  —  " 

In  a  madrigal  by  Morley  (1600)  we  have  the  following  : 

"  April  is  my  mistris  face, 
And  July  in  her  eyes  hath  place, 
Within  her  bosom  is  September, 
But  in  her  heart  a  cold  December." 

and  in  Robert  Greene's  "  Perimedes,  the  Blacksmith,"  1588  — 
we  find  another  rendering  of  the  same  idea  : 

"  Fair  is  my  love,  for  April  -in  her  face. 

Her  lovely  breasts  September  claims  his  part, 
And  lordly  July  in  her  eies  takes  place, 
But  cold  December  dwelleth  in  her  heart." 

The  following  speak  for  themselves  : 

[Longfellow.'] 

"  Aud  like  a  lily  on  a  river  floating, 
She  floats  upon  the  river  of  his  thoughts." 

Spanish  Student,  Jlct  2,  Sc.  3. 

[Tennyson.} 

"Now  folds  the  lily  all  her  sweetness  up, 
Aud  slips  into  the  bosom  of  the  lake." 

Princess,  pt.  1. 

There  is  a  resemblance  in  the  following  lines  from  Wordsworth 
and  Keble. 


304  SALAD      FOli      THE      SOCIAL. 


"  A  book,  upon  whose  leaves  some  chosen  plants 
By  his  own  hand  disposed  with  nicest  care, 
In  undccaying  beauty  were  preserved." 

Excursion,  bk.  6. 

"  Like  flower-leaves  in  a  precious  volume  stored 

To  solace  and  relieve 
Some  heart  too  weary  of  the  restless  world.'' 

Christian  Year. 

Herrick,  seems  to  have  had  the  finest  perception  of  the 
delicate  and  charming,  in  the  following — 

"  Her  pretty  feet, 
Like  smiles,  did  creep 
A  little  out,  and  then, 
As  if  they  started  at  bo-peep, 
Did  soon  draw  in  again." 

It  is  the  exquisite  intimation  of  the  lively  character  of  the 
inward  spirit,  shown  in  the  active  movements  of  the  feet,  which 
Sir  John  Suckling  has  imitated  in  his  ballad  of  the  Wedding  : 

"  Her  feet  beneath  her  petticoat 
Like  little  mice  stole  iu  and  out, 

As  if  they  feared  the  light ; 
But,  oh,  she  dances  such  a  way, 
No  sun  upon  an  Easter  day 

Is  half  so  fine  a  sight  F 

The  literary  faux-pns  of  a  once  celebrated  chemist,  by  his  work 
on1' Chemical  Tests,"  IK  known  to  the  scientific  in  both  hemispheres. 
He  published  a  work  on  Poisons,  entitled,  "Death  in  the.  Pot,''  which 
at  tirst  bid  fair  to  yield  its  author  a  moderately  good  revenue  of 
fame  and  fortune,  but  for  the  discovery  which  was  soon  made,  that 
it  consisted  of  a  series  of  pilfered  pages,  torn  out  of  old  books  in 
the  British  Museum;  he  was  tried  upon  a  criminal  suit  for  felony, 
and  although  formally  acquitted,  yet  so  strong  was  the  circum 
stantial  evidence  of  his  guilt,  that  he  was  compelled  to  decamp. 
Among  the  liberal  professions  respectively — law,  physic,  and  the- 


THE      LARCENIES      OF      LITERATURE.  395 


ology — many  curious  facts  might  also  be  cited ;  but  about  theology 
\ve  must  have  little  to  say — of  physic,  less — and  law,  the  least. 
Before  speaking  of  the  mysterious  parallels  which  may  be  found 
to  exist  with  the  Biblical  Commentaries  of  such  divines  as  Dr. 
Adam  Clarke,  and  his  approved  pioneer,  Dr.  John  Gill,  we 
subjoin  the  following  extract  from  the  Preface  to  Cobbin's  Con 
densed  Commentary: 

"  All  the  commentators  have  drawn  largely  from  the  Fathers, 
especially  from  St.  Augustine;  and  most  of  them  have  made 
common  property  of  Patrick,  South  and  Whitby.  Henry  has 
made  very  free  use  with  Bishop  Hall  and  others,  and  Scott  has 
again  enriched  himself  abundantly  from  Henry;  Poole  exhausted 
the  continental  writers,  while  Gill,  unlike  the  others,  acknow 
ledges  his  obligations." 

The  number  of  commentators  is  great;  yet  if  the  uncopied 
portions  were  to  be  collected,  they  would,  perhaps,  occupy  a 
single  duodecimo. 

It  was  a  curious  mistake  that  a  celebrated  English  clergy 
man  recently  made;  in  printing  his  Philippic  against  Theatres, 
he  actually  copied  it  wholly  from  another  writer,  without  the 
slightest  acknowledgment.  Burin  detected  this,  and  printing 
the  article  from  both  in  parallels — simply  asked  what  faith  could 
be  reposed  in  the  reverend  pilferer. 

A  few  years  ago,  a  work  was  published  in  London,  under 
the  title  of  "  Anecdotes  of  Napoleon,"  and,  would  it  be  credited, 
that  this  wonderful  production  was  neither  more  nor  less  than  a 
compilation  literally  rendered  from  the  German,  of  a  Life  of 
Frederic  the  Great,  the  name  of  the  emperor  being  substituted 
for  that  of  the  latter.  Another  instance  of  fraud  occurred  in 
Captain  Marryatt's  "Narrative  of  M.  Yiolet,"  in  which  some 
wholesale  plagiarisms  were  perpetrated  upon  two  American 
authors,  Kendall  and  Gregg. 

Punch  profanely  jokes  about  some  "  sprigs  of  divinity,"  who 
are  accustomed  to  "bone"  their  sermons,  having  recourse  to 
skeletons,  which  they  keep  in  their  closets,  and  with  which  they 


396  SALAD      F  O  H      T  H  K      SOCIAL. 


are  in  the  babit  of  terrifying  the  consciences  of  their  hearers. 
This  fact  accounts  for  their  sermons  being  as  dry  as  a  bone! 
The  same  humorous  authority  affirms,  there  are  many  thoughts 
like  diamonds,  that  take  much  less  time  to  find,  than  to  polish 
when  found.  Old  thoughts  being  frequently  like  old  clothes, 
you  put  them  away  for  a  time,  and  they  become  apparently  new 
by  "  brushing  up." 

A  few  years  ago  a  very  impressive  vsermon  was  delivered  by 
a  young  man  fresh  from  the  seminary.  After  service  a  gentle 
man  observed  "  Not  every  young  man  can  think  like  that  young 
man."  It  was  one  of  Melville1. s  masterly  discourses,  word  for  icord ! 

A  preacher  of  no  remarkable  powers  undertook,  not  long  since, 
to  astound  the  congregation  of  a  brother  minister  by  a  great 
sermon.  It  was  Massiloris  on  the  small  number  of  the  saved. 
Alas,  he  could  not  wield  the  power  of  Massilon,  and  the  effort 
proved  a  failure. 

Another  instance  of  clerical  delinquency  was  that  of  a  printed 
discourse.  It  has  been  heralded  to  the  world  with  no  ordinary 
parade  and  display.  But  in  glancing  at  it,  evidences  of  other 
authorship  were  immediately  detected — and  on  comparison  it 
was  found  that  every  passage  of  any  beauty  or  power  was 
stolen.  About  one  half  of  it,  in  language  as  wdl  as  idea,  was 
found  to  be  from  Gilfillau's  Bards  of  the  Bille,  and  from  Hamil 
ton  of  London. 

Even  the  Press  sometimes  makes  unacknowledged  appropria 
tions  of  the  productions  of  others.  Not  many  months  since, 
we  accidentally  noticed  in  a  newspaper  emanating  from  the  'far 
West,'  a  poem,  entitled  "T%e  World;"  the  first  stanza  of  which 
reads — 

"  Talk  who  will  of  the  world  as  a  desert  of  thrall. 

Yet  there  is  a  bloom  on  the  waste  ; 
Though  the  chalice  of  life  hath  its  acid  and  gall. 
There  are  honey-drops,  too,  for  the  taste." 

The  authorship   of    the  production,   consisting  of   thirteen 


THK      LARGE  NIKS      OF      LITERATURE.  397 


verses,  would  it  be  believed — was  ascribed  to  a  certain  N.  H 
Parker,  to  whose  literary  claims  the  discriminating  editor 
thought  proper  to  devote  his  rhetorical  skill.  The  poem  is  to 
be  found  verbatim  in  Eliza  Cook's  poetical  works. 

An  edition  of  Cicero  de  Senedute,  with  annotations,  appeared 
in  London  about  the  time  of  Franklin's  mission  to  that  capital, 
as  translated  by  himself,  with  his  portrait  annexed,  when  it  is 
well-known  he  was  incompetent  to  such  a  task.  The  translation 
was  really  made  by  Logan,  who  founded  the  Philadelphia 
Library.  Another  literary  peccadillo  should  be  recorded  :  we 
refer  to  his  plagiarism  upon  Jeremy  Taylor's  beautiful  parable 
against  "  Intolerance,"  which  Franklin  has  incorporated  ver 
batim  into  his  works  without  the  slightest  acknowledgment; 
while  even  Lord  Kaimes,  in  quoting  the  extract,  gives  credit 
for  it  to  Franklin.  It  is  as  follows  : 

"And  it  came  to  pass  after  these  things,  that  Abraham  sat  in  the  door 
of  his  tent,  about  the  going  down  of  the  sun.  And  behold  a  man  bent 
with  age,  coming  from  the  way  of  the  wilderness  leaning  on  a  staff:  and 
Abraham  rose,  and  met  him,  and  said  unto  him.  '  Turn  in.  I  pray  thee, 
and  wash  thy  feet,  and  tarry  all  night :  and  thou  shalt  rise  early  in  the 
morning  and  go  on  thy  way.'  And  the  man  said,  'Nay,  for  I  will  abide 
under  this  tree.'  But  Abraham  pressed  him  greatly ;  so  he  turned  and 
went  into  the  tent,  and  Abraham  baked  unleavened  bread,  and  they  did 
eat.  And  when  Abraham  saw  that  the  man  blesssed  not  God,  he  said 
unto  him,  '  Wherefore  dost  thou  not  worship  the  most  high  God,  creator 
of  heaven  and  earth?'  And  the  man  answered  and  said,  '  I  do  not  wor 
ship  thy  God,  neither  do  I  call  upon  his  name :  for  I  have  made  to  myself 
a  god,  which  abidcth  always  in  mine  house,  and  provideth  me  with  all 
things.'  And  Abraham's  zeal  was  kindled  against  the  man,  and  he  arose, 
and  fell  upon  the  man,  and  drove  him  forth  with  blows  into  the  wilder 
ness.  And  God  called  unto  Abraham,  saying,  'Abraham,  where  is  the 
stranger?'  And  Abraham  answered  and  said,  '  Lord,  he  would  not  wor 
ship  thee,  neither  would  he  call  upon  thy  name,  therefore  have  I  driven 
him  out  from  before  my  face  into  the  wilderness ;'  and  God  said,  'Have 
I  borne  with  him  these  hundred  and  ninety  and  eight  years,  and  nourished 
him,  and  clothed  him,  notwithstanding  his  rebellion  against  me  ;  and 
couldst  not  thou,  who  art  thyself  a  sinner,  bear  with  him  one  night?' " 


398  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


Having  thus  taken  a  brief  glance  at  prominent  cases  of 
literary  fraud,  we  are  tempted  to  inquire  whether  there  is  such 
a  thing  in  existence  as  absolute  moral  honesty.  The  earliest 
indications  of  childhood  afford  us  no  very  conclusive  evidence 
in  its  behalf,  however  guileless  the  incipient  knavery,  while 
among  the  unsophisticated  rangers  of  the  forest,  similar  develop 
ments  of  a  natural  law  of  secretiveness  are  no  less  observable. 
The  governing  impulse  of  the  robber  seems  but  the  exuberant 
outgrowth  of  the  very  principle,  otherwise  known  by  the  less 
objectionable  epithet — covetousness;  and  we  cannot  but  con 
clude  that  he  must  be  an  ingenious  sophist  who  can  adduce 
any  substantial  reasons  against  their  positive  identity.  If, 
then,  they  are  convertible  terms,  it  is  solely  to  our  conventional 
usage  we  must  ascribe  the  fact,  that  both  are  not  alike  visited 
by  penal  enactment.  How  far  such  a  course  may  conflict  with 
our  notions  of  abstract  justice,  we  leave  the  reader  to  decide, 
since  to  both  we  admit  an  eager,  if  not  an  equal,  proclivity. 

"  In  the  crowd, 

May  it  please  your  excellency,  your  thief  looks 
Exactly  like  the  rest,  or  rather  better  ; 
'Tis  only  at  the  bar,  and  in  the  dungeon, 
That  wise  men  know  your  felon  by  his  features." 


"  L'Envoy  is  an  epilogue,  or  discourse,  to  make  plain 
Some  obscure  precedence  that  hath  before  been  sain ; 
I  will  example  it." 

Love's  Labor  Lost. 


YERY  few  wills  are  executed  without  a  codicil,  so  that  it 
may  not  be  inadmissible  to  offer  a  little  dish  of  trifles  after 
our  Salad.  If  it  be  true  that  good  wine  needs  no  bush,  'tis 
true,  as  Shakspeare  has  it,  that  a  good  play  needs  no  epilogue; 
yet  to  good  wine  they  do  use  good  bushes  ;  and  good  plays 
do  prove  the  better  by  the  help  of  good  epilogues.  Not 
unfrequently  the  after-thought  which  suggests  the  postscript 
contains  the  most  important  item  of  the  whole  epistle  :  and 
although  this  may  not  be  the  case  in  the  present  instance,  yet 
our  pen  seems  reluctant  to  resign  its  office  without  a  few  words 
supplementary — a  brief  tete-a-tete  with  our  excellent  friends 
who  have  shared  our  literary  repast.  Patroclus  is  said  to 
have  been  famous  for  his  "  Olla  Podrida" — in  our  emulation 
of  the  classic  hero,  we  stake  our  reputation  upon  Salad.  Our 
preference  has  been  confirmed,  moreover,  by  the  brilliant  suc 
cess  of  a  more  recent  artiste  in  the  same  department  of  culi 
nary  skill — the  chevalier  D'Aubigne,  the  story  of  whose  career 
is  too  curious  to  be  passed  over.  "Latour  D'Aubigne  contrived 
to  live,  as  many  French  gentleman  did  at  the  time  of  the 
French  Revolution,  in  bitter  poverty,  without  a  sacrifice  of 
dignity.  He  had  one  day  been  invited  by  an  English  friend  to 
dine  with  the  latter  at  a  tavern.  In  the  course  of  the  repast, 

899 


400  SALAD      FOR     THE      SOCIAL. 


he  took  upon  himself  to  mix  the  salad  ;  and  the  way  in  which 
he  did  this  attracted  the  notice  of  all  the  guests.  Previous 
to  this  period,  lettuces  were  commonly  eaten,  by  tavern  fre 
quenters  at  least,  au  naturel,  with  no  more  dressing  than  Xebu- 
chadnezzar  had  to  his  grass  when  he  dieted  daily  among  the 
beasts.  Consequently,  when  D'Aubigne  handled  the  ,prepara- 
tion  for  which  he  had  asked,  like  a  chemist  concocting  elixir  in 
his  laboratory,  the  guests  were  lost  in  admiration,  for  the 
refreshing  aroma  of  a  Mayonnaise  was  warrant  to  their  senses 
that  the  French  knight  had  discovered  for  them  a  new  pleasure. 
One  of  them  approached  the  foreign  magician,  and  said,  '  Sir, 
it  is  universally  known  that  your  nation  excels  all  others  in  the 
making  a  salad.  Would  it  be  too  great  a  liberty  to  ask  you 
to  do  us  the  favor  to  mix  one  for  the  party  at  my  table  ?'  The 
courteous  Frenchman  smiled,  was  flattered,  performed  the  office 
asked,  and  put  four  gentlemen  in  a  state  of  uncontrollable 
ecstacy.  He  had  talked  cheerfully,  as  he  mixed  gracefully  and 
scientifically,  and,  in  the  few  minutes  required  by  him  to  com 
plete  his  work  of  enchantment,  he  contrived  to  explain  his 
position  as  emigrant,  and  his  dependance  on  the  pecuniary  aid 
afforded  by  the  English  Government.  The  guests  did  not  let 
the  poor  Chevalier  depart  without  slipping  into  his  hand  a 
golden  fee,  which  he  received  with  as  little  embarrassment,  and 
as  much  dignity  as  though  he  had  been  the  Physician  De  Por 
tal,  taking  an  honorarium  from  the  hands  of  the  Cardinal  de 
Rohan. 

He  had  communicated  his  address,  and  he,  perhaps,  was  not 
very  much  surprised  when,  a  few  days  after,  he  received  a  let 
ter  in  which  he  was  politely  requested  to  repair  to  a  house  in 
Grosvenor  square,  for  the  purpose  of  mixing  a  salad  for  a  din 
ner-party  there  to  be  given.  D'Aubigne  obeyed  the  summons; 
and,  after  performing  his  mission,  returned  home  richer  by  a 
five-pound  note  than  when  he  went  out. 

Henceforth  he  became  the  'fashionable  salad-maker;'  and 
ladies  'died'  for  his  salads,  as  they  do  now  for  Coustantine's 


A      STRAY      LEAF,  401 


simulative  bouquets.  He  was  soon  enabled  to  proceed  to  bis 
responsible  duties  in  a  carriage  ;  and  a  servant  attended  him, 
carrying  a  mahogany  case,  containing  the  necessary,  ingredients 
for  concocting  various  salads,  according  to  the  respective  tastes 
of  his  employers.  At  a  later  period  he  sold,  by  hundreds,  simi 
lar  mahogany  cases,  which  he  had  caused  to  be  made,  and 
which  were  furnished  with  all  matters  necessary  for  the  making 
an  irreproachable  salad,  and  with  directions  how  to  administer 
them.  The  Chevalier,  too,  was,  like  old  Carre — whose  will 
was  so  cleverly  made  by  the  very  disinterested  friends  who  had 
never  before  spoken  to  him — a  prudent  and  a  saving  man;  and 
by  the  period  which  re-opened  France  to  the  emigres,  he  had 
realized  some  eighty  thousand  francs,  upon  which  he  enjoyed 
a  dignified  retirement  in  a  provincial  town."* 

This  little  incident  seemed  so  apposite  to  our  closing  pages, 
that  we  have  been  tempted  to  append  it:  the  moral  of  which, 
if  it  have  any,  shall  be  to  suggest  the  hope  that  our  Salad  may 
prove  as  acceptable  as  that  of  the  French  artist. 

*  Dr.  Doran's  Table  Traits. 


THE     END. 


27125 


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OCT141996 


